Book of the Other Side
by WorldRuler
Summary: AU. In the future, a war between wizards and vampires leads the latter to near-extinction. In order to prevent it, two vampires are sent back in time. One of them has to face more than just that: family secret, curse, sin and search for meaning of death.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter one, in which Cathy goes forth, that is back.**_

Dreadful whine rose above battle cries and roar of spells. Juliette felt a shiver go through her numb body. She knew this voice, she knew it belonged to Mia. She couldn't imagine what sort of pain tore this animal-like sound from her throat, but she also knew that wizards were able to make death seem like salvation. Juliette found out about it first hand; her bloody face with plucked out eye was a grotesque testimony of their cruelty. Maybe she could heal herself, but it would take time.

Time. Juliette was running through her castle's corridors, hurrying through known by heart labyrinth. The last stronghold of vampires in England was falling, the enemy broke inside and Juliette desperately needed time, which she had so little of.

There was only a handful of them left. Juliette have lived for very long now, but she's never seen anything so terrible. Her own race, so close to extinction. Here, on the Islands, there wasn't more than over a dozen of them left, most of which hid in her castle. Her last hope laid in faith that wizards haven't reached the underground lab in which she hid group of her favourites, pupils she was especially fond of. If they also were killed, everything was lost forever.

The further from the main hall of the castle she got, the weaker the smell of vampire and human blood was getting; it wasn't clutching at Juliette's throat with a mix of dread and hunger any more. She more like fled than ran down the stairs leading to the underground. Her impractical, long skirts were tangling around her legs. Dressing, she wasn't preparing for a fight. She wasn't ready for death. None of them was. Long life didn't prepare for dying in agony.

She wanted to have one more year. One year for conversation with those she loved; things she never had courage for; learning so many places that changed always when she left. During those seconds that it took her to cross the road between the stairs and the lab door Juliette was remembering her thousands-years existence and examining her conscience. Experience of millenniums taught her that you sin against others and yourself, not some distant gods that come and go.

She clenched her fingers over chilly metal of the doorknob and froze in absolute immobility, feeling weak from the wave of relief. They were inside. They were alive. She could feel them. Relief was soon joined by disappointment – only three, so little, so very little. Juliette forced herself to summon peace to her massacred face. She couldn't let them catch on her emotions. They had to focus on the task at hand. It was Juliette's last trial. If vampires had gods, this is what she would have answered to them from.

She opened the door and slithered inside, closing it tightly behind her. Soon wizards will start looking for them. Her pupils were located near the opposite wall. Marco, tawny and dangerous, was leaning against the stone wall, with his arm around the waist of ashen haired Cathy. Alexandra half-laid by their feet, her hand clutched to her thigh from which blood red as her hair was flowing. They looked frightened, uncertain, young.

"We've lost the castle," said Julitte and her voice didn't even tremble. "We've got little time left."

They knew it, of course. Their gazes were drawn by the empty eye socket, even though they were trying not to look so they wouldn't hurt her. Marco pushed himself from the wall and in one swift movement stood next to Juliette.

"I'll keep them upstairs. Buy you some time."

Cathy made a little sigh, as if she was going to protest, but he left, not looking at her. Maybe in past live they were connected by friendship or some other feeling Juliette wasn't aware of, but right now they meant nothing to each other. Task was the most important thing. Juliette didn't say anything either, because Marco's decision was suicidal, but logical. Just as logical was that Alexandra couldn't be send by herself. She was wounded, probably couldn't even stand up and wasn't registering a lot, blinded and deafened by the pain. Juliette herself had to cast the spell. That's why the only one left was aristocratic Cathy. She seemed to understand it, too, because she nodded her head shortly. Only after a moment did the full weight of that decision reach her, because she started protesting.

"Nicholas was supposed to... I'm inadequate. I'm not suitable. It wasn't me..."

"Get a hold on yourself, we need you concentrated," Juliette interrupted her harshly. She started preparing the ritual. She was pushing away cabinets full of mysterious utensils, making some space in the middle of the room. Alexandra's eyes were following her, coated with fever like leucoma.

"But Nicholas was supposed to..."

"Nicholas is dead!" Juliette screamed unexpectedly. "Everyone's dead, we are the only ones left. If you don't want to join the corpses with stakes in their hearts or heads cut off, my advice is, get a hold on yourself!"

Alexandra moaned silently. Juliette thought that she probably doesn't care. She doesn't know what's going on around her anyway.

Spilling different colourful powders on the floor, Juliette tried to concentrate only on her work. Even so, time after time she was catching herself waiting for another protest from Cathy. Nothing like that happened. Vampire aristocrat was now standing still like a statue and her almond-shaped eyes were directed at Juliette, following her. Taking it as a good sign, Juliette asked, "Do you remember what were you doing June 1944? Where were you then?"

"I was in my crypt," said Cathy in a silent, even voice, like a child asked a question by the teacher. "I was asleep."

"That's even better. I'll send you back to that time. You'll wake up in your crypt and as the only one, besides Alexandra, will have the knowledge about future happenings. Your task, of course, is to not let them come into existence. You must neutralise Aster de Nox before she gets a chance to declare war against wizards. Stop this senseless slaughter. Keep the London Covenant, guaranteeing both races peace. This is your most important mission. It's a shame we don't have time to work on a more detailed plan. With Nocholas things looked quite differently, he was..."

She trailed off, but Cathy knew the rest of this sentence. Older. Stronger. Better. Nevertheless, she stepped into the circle drawn by Juliette, practically dragging half-conscious Alexandra behind her. They were their last, desperate hope and they weren't allowed to fail. Anyway, did they have any choice? Staying here, in this time, meant death, and a very rapid one at that. How much longer could Marco keep the wizard upstairs? If he was in Cathy's place...

Juliette didn't ask Cathy whether she's ready or not. There was no moment besides "now", she wasn't going to be any more ready. Juliette just raised her wand fetched from between her skirts' folds and said a spell, aiming it at Cathy and Alexandra. At the very last moment Cathy's and Juliette's gazes met and Cathy understood that even if she changes the course of history, in this reality, in this version of the world, her teacher is going to die very soon anyway.

And then supernova's explosion send Cathy into bottomless abyss through which she was falling or maybe floating – it was hard to establish any direction in nothingness. Inertia made her nauseous and pressure caused her physical pain. When everything calmed down a little, Cathy experience eerie feeling that can be caused only by looking at oneself. Not in the mirror, when reflection is merely repeating movements and facial expressions of its master. Cathy saw herself sleeping in dark and narrow sarcophagus, peaceful in her alabaster stillness, unaware that all of a sudden there were two of them. Cathy recognised her facial features and her hair, her hands intertwined on her chest, even her dress, classical and timeless, as she thought about it back then, choosing it. Even so, she couldn't think about the other one "me". She reached out an incorporeal hand to touch the other Cathy's chick. And then suddenly they became one.

Cathy opened her eyes and discovered she's laying at the bottom of a dark, narrow, stone sarcophagus. She would have inhaled deeply, if there was any air worth filling lungs with here. She felt well known numbness associated with awakening after long lethargy. Body would need few days, maybe weeks, to go back to its normal state. Right now Cathy was not much stronger than an average, mortal woman. There was no way she could lift a heavy sarcophagus lid.

For a moment Cathy was wriggling in search of a wand, until she found it at the head of the sarcophagus. It was hard to bend her wrist in the narrow space so that she could point the wand at the lid. Bones were protesting.

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" she chocked out.

Even her magical abilities were weakened, but the stone lid rose lazily nevertheless, revealing insides of the crypt. Cathy sat and waited until her head stopped spinning. She used this time to look around the dusty chamber filled with cobwebs. Luckily, nobody plundered her resting place. Grave robbers were a real plague amongst vampires and the Covenant was clear what is the punishment for a vampire who kills a mortal, so they could do very little about it.

Cathy jumped out of the sarcophagus and onto the floor. The crypt was small, without any devotional articles – crosses, paintings, icons, religious symbols. Everything that Cathy owned was being stored at Gringotta's, peacefully bringing her profits, which was a secret to many a vampire's fortune. They had a lot of time to multiply their money.

With some trouble did Cathy manage to unbolt the door. Lock was putting fierce resistance and the bar was really heavy. Outside there was a summer afternoon, warm and smelling of night rain. Cathy locked the door behind her with a spell and started looking around the cemetery. It was well groomed and small-town-like, with a few family crypts. The one behind Cathy belonged to the oldest ones. There were no dates engraved on it, only a surname, five letters covered with green layer of lichen: Ellis.

Plan was forming itself in Cathy's head step by step, until she herself was surprised by the ease with which it came to her. She stood before the cemetery gate, casting last glance over her shoulder at the place of her many years' rest, and then she teleported with a silent crack, just as if someone stepped on a dry stick.

"Bloody hell!"

Cathy briefly congratulated herself on a good timing. She managed to surprise Alexandra exactly at the moment when she was standing up from the carpet in her small apartment stuffed with books. It seemed like this was the place spell transported her to. She wasn't carrying any wounds any more, but she looked very pale, as if time travel wasn't really good for her.

"Catherine," she chocked out. "You startled me. So... We did it? Are we really in the past?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" asked Cathy with a sigh. "Come on, let's find out." She grabbed Alexandra by the elbow, ready for another teleportation.

"Wait! And what if these are still our times? They'll kill us on the streets!"

This theory was probably correct, but Cathy didn't feel like admitting it. If they really didn't make it, then she had no trouble with dying even that very moment. Everything was lost anyway and all that was waiting for them was running away from the chase. She didn't want to be the last living vampire.

She teleported both of them in the middle of the Diagon Alley, into the crowd of people that dazed her. It was a long time since she's been next to so many mortals at once. She let go of Alexandra's elbow, looking around, at passerbys' faces. Few people looked at her briefly. Nobody was attacking. At her side Alexandra was trembling in fear.

"See? We're alive," said Cathy evenly.

Despite indifferent face that she was showing, on the inside she was bursting with excitement. They were in the 40s, in the time when Aster de Nox haven't reached her position yet. They had a chance, a real chance to change the course oh history, save their race. Juliette accomplished the impossible.

Memory of her mentor and friend sobered Cathy up. Even though she knew that in theory she's save in her castle, working on one magical experiment or another, she couldn't get rid of the image of an empty eye socket.

No, no, no. This haven't happened yet. This will never happen. She won't let it.

Among many qualities Juliette observed in Cathy over the many years of their acquaintance, there really weren't many of those she would like to see in a person chosen for he mission of fixing the past. Still, Cathy was a vampire aristocrat, raised up and spoiled from the day she was born, and that meant that she was a good actress with a talent at hiding her emotions. As the opposite to Alexandra, who looked like she was very close to fainting. Cathy sent her a single look. In her opinion, Alexandra wasn't a particularly good vampire.

"What now?" asked Alexandra.

"Do you have any money? We'll go to Lilith's Arms, feed, get recent newspaper. We need to get up-to-date with current events."

Alexandra seemed to be grateful for the fact that Cathy's taking the lead. It fit Cathy, too, because she liked giving orders. Two vampires started walking through the crowd, enjoying great feeling of not being afraid that someone may attack them any moment. From Diagon Alley they turned into Knockturn Alley where the crowd was much thinner, but more colourful. Cathy followed with her gaze a witch who walked into the nearest shop, petting thoughtfully skeleton of a cat that she was carrying in her arms. Cathy disapproved of keeping pets. Not because she didn't like them. There was just no point in getting attached – they were dying so quickly. A little bit like people, when she started thinking about it.

Pub Lilith's Arms, local addressed strictly to vampire clientèle, was just like Cathy remembered it from times before wizards burned it down. With a sort of melancholy she recognised signboard presenting female vampire lavishly gifted by Mother Nature, yet suffering deficiency in the dress department. She stepped into the dark interior, with Alexandra following close behind.

They sat at the first table by the door. At this time, by day, there weren't many patrons present. There was a pair of vampires in travel coats sitting near the long counter and a very young vampire with long braid was reading a book in the light cast by the fireplace.

"What can I get for you, ladies?" asked a publican, appearing from thin air. He was a vampire of age that was impossible to establish and had hair sticking in every direction and neatly trimmed ginger beard. He spread his hands widely, as if to show that everything they can see is at their disposal. His gaze rested on Cathy and he smiled broadly. "I'll be damned if it's not young lady Ellis!"

"Hello, Isaac," said Cathy semi-automatically. "An acquaintance of mine, Alexandra Engels."

She wasn't close friends with Isaac Pennyworth, son of the pub owners, but every familiar face was causing her joy. Especially that she remembered how Isaac's head looked, exposed to ridicule in Lilith's Arms' broken window.

"I was under the impression you aren't going to join us for another decade or two?" Isaac looked at her quizzically.

"I've just woken up."

"Ah, in that case, a cup of blood for both ladies. Bear's, fresh, worth trying. A newspaper to that? We call it Welcome Among The Living package."

He laughed at his not particularly funny joke and strolled towards kitchen, shaking his head in disbelief. He came back a moment later with two dishes made of stained glass, containing about half a quart of blood each. Cathy pushed the blue "cup", as Isaac called it, towards herself and started drinking in slow, long sips. Blood was warm and tasted of forest and Cathy was very hungry. From the corner of her eye she notices how impractically long are her fingernails. Her hair have also grown out a lot, though a lot slower than it would have happened with a human. She will have to take care of that. There was a lot of small things like these.

"Strength solution is out of the question," said Cathy as if they haven't stopped their conversation even for a moment. "Maybe it would work with Nicholas, his family's got power... Elisses do too, of course, but in this other sense."

Alexandra looked at her questioningly over the newspaper she was browsing. It was enough for Cathy when she noticed the date printed on the first page: 17th of July, 1944.

"We have politics. My father was one of the vampires signing London Covenant, did you know that? We need to get among humans and vampires. Gain a position. Aster de Nox haven't started yet, she's oscillating somewhere around the Ministry of Magic and our Council. This way she'll get followers. We need position. If we acquire all of it before her... This can work. For a start."

"That's all very nice," Alexandra interrupted her, presenting irony perhaps for the first time, "but how are you going to do this, Catherine? I'm sorry, but I won't help you. My family isn't important enough for anybody to even remember our name, _did you know that?_"

Cathy haven't had any specific idea how to get to the top of the vampire social ladder, but she didn't say it out loud. She sent Alexandra a crooked, sarcastic smile that looked odd on her face with classical features.

"Can I stay at your place?" she asked instead of an answer. "I need to talk with goblins at Gringott's, they take care of my finances."

Not having much of a choice, Alexandra agreed. Cathy didn't know what the red-headed vampire was thinking about her and she was probably a happier person because of that – something in Alexandra's expression suggested it's nothing nice.

They finished their meal and left Lilith's Arms. Alexandra had her own life that was calling her in these times and she clearly wasn't keen on keeping Cathy company during executing rest of the plans she had for that day. Afternoon was only starting and Cathy was going to do a few more chores. She began, just as she promised, with a visit at Gringott's.

She was savouring the feeling that came with climbing up the white, marble stairs leading to the building. She wasn't looking as presentable as she wished to on the first day of her regained life, but she couldn't stop herself anyway, she had to straighten her back proudly as she was walking into the long banking hall. She walked over to a counter behind which sat a goblin with especially suspicious expression.

"How may I be of service, miss?" he asked in a screechy voice.

It was curious, really, but goblins weren't smelling compelling to Cathy at all. She didn't associate their blood with food at all. Instead goblins associated vampires with money, and that was pretty much defining their relations.

"My name is Catherine Ellis," she introduced herself. "I would like to talk to a person responsible for managing my account."

It was long time since she had a chance to give her name to anybody. During times of war it was unnecessary; she almost forgot how it is to be a person, with desires, qualities, past, she was so busy living from day to day, floating somehow on the surface of existence. Back then, there was no time for thinking about things like that. You knew people you could trust, meeting new ones was needless.

Naturally, goblin didn't believe her just like that. Without any protests Cathy underwent the procedure of identity check – she laid her palm on a small plate that was changing colours for a moment, until it took on a nasty, yellowish green tone.

After couple minutes of waiting, Cathy was approached by a female goblin who informed her indifferently that her name was Scriba. Cathy rarely saw female representatives of her species and the same could apparently be said about Scriba, so for a moment they were just eyeing each other, overcoming the height difference with some difficulty. Scriba was the first one to break out of the trance and she led Cathy to one of the rooms adjoining the main hall. It was an elegant office practically dripping with luxury. Cathy took a place at the chair by the table with delicately curved legs. Scriba stood by her elbow, apparently not wishing to go through procedure of climbing the too tall for her sit. She produced a packet of papers for Cathy to browse through. They were account statements, tables of numbers, some percentages from equity tradings. It meant nothing to Cathy, but she tried to keep her expression politely interested.

"What will you need, miss Ellis?" asked Scriba in a sober tone.

"Everything," answered Cathy at once.

This clearly piqued Scriba's interest. Money flow was probably the only thing, right next to jewels, that was ale to make a goblin happy.

"Everything," repeated Cathy with conviction. "We should probably start with an accommodation. I would like to rent, or more readily buy, a tenement house at Diagon Alley."

Goblin's professionalism was legendary. A little over a week after this meeting Cathy could move in to her own apartment, furnished by the last owners. Rest of the tenement house remained empty – Cathy wasn't interested in renting rooms for shops or looking for tenants. Her predecessors had a tendency for furniture deftly pretending to be antiques and Cathy decided that it satisfied her for now.

Diagon Alley was providing her access to everything she needed ad hoc. And if anything was from a little different shelf, she could always venture at Knockturn Alley. She spent her days writing letters to her acquaintances and informing them about her early awakening or wandering the shops. Sometimes, like this particular afternoon, Alexandra kept her company.

They were leaving Twilfit & Tatting's, a boutique that Cathy found especially to her liking and that Alexandra was describing as snobbish. Cathy made sure over her shoulder that the saleswoman wrote down correct address to send all her shopping.

"We should be spending this time on planning how to interrupt Aster, not wasting it in shops," Alexandra pointed out acidly.

It was hard to disagree with her, but Cathy had no idea how sitting at home and racking their brains was going to be any more inspiring. She slowed her pace, because there was some sort of commotion ahead of them, someone was blocking the street by the Flourish and Blots Bookseller. She was suspecting that maybe book signing by some well-known author was taking place, but it was hard to establish from such a distance and through swirling crowd of people.

"We need to get to the public life. I would propose some ministry job, but we don't have predispositions for that," replied Cathy. "We can't just appear out of nowhere, two vampires with their contact with present times disturbed, and expect that they will let us do anything bigger than a coffee. Where else do you have contact with people? Think."

By the book store a scene was playing, drawing more and more onlookers. Reddened, laden with packages plump witch was waving a cauldron she held in one hand and trying to convince small and just as plump boy to go inside Flourish and Blots, because she had to buy him his textbooks, for Merlin's sake. The boy was answering tearfully that there is no way he's going to any school, so there is no need for textbooks. The witch looked like she was honestly thinking about just stunning the boy with a spell and dragging him inside by force. Cathy would probably cheer for her. She haven't discovered any maternal instincts in herself yet. In this aspect her maturity was fully corresponding with her teenage looks.

"You can stop thinking now," she said, smiling to herself. "I know what we're going to do."

"Is that so?" Alexandra showed her interest. "And what exactly?"

They squeezed by the witch and the boy, leaving the pair to their own dramas. Cathy's eyes shone in actual delight, for the first time in many, many years. At last she had something to hold on to. She was surprised that she haven't thought about it earlier, so obvious was this solution. If they couldn't find any job adequate to their task, they had to reach a little lower. Thanks to that they could avoid the effect of appearing out of nowhere, they were gaining some more modern background. To an average wizard name "Ellis" meant nothing, he didn't know what stories are connected to it. Here Cathy couldn't rely completely on fame surrounding her family. She will have to create Catherine Ellis from scratch, make her an independent person, not leaning on her ancestors' achievements. Solution she just came up with was perfect for Alexandra, too, because it wasn't actually referring to the past.

"Are you going to tell me, or will you just continue to smile like that?" asked Alexandra irritably, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Dear Alexandra, we will sign up to Hogwarts."

_AN: Hello! Hope you didn't hate this chapter very much. This one, and the next one, for that matter, show some background that wolud look stupid just explained in few sentences, I think. Anyway, if you are already annoyed with Cathy... Well, she's not a very sympathy-gaining character. _

_I have this story finished, but it's in Polish. What you can read here is my poor translation, so if there are any grammatical errors, point them out and know you are helping me to learn. Thank you in advance!  
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	2. Chapter 2

_ **Chapter two, in which Cathy comes back among the living. **_

For some reasons Alexandra wasn't sharing Cathy's enthusiasm concerning the idea of signing up for Hogwarts. Actually she went as far as to laugh in the middle of the street, loudly and joyfully, attracting to herself attention of two wizards carrying some sort of long package between them. Cathy stopped walking, just waiting for Alexandra to calm down. Her own smile disappeared, replaced by raised eyebrows.

"Hogwarts?" repeated Alexandra. "You must be joking. We are too old for school, don't you think? I'm sixty-two years old, you are... How old are you anyway, Catherine?"

"The London Covenant guarantees us the right to learn as long as we want to. You already graduated Durmstrang once, from what Juliette has told me? We will submit appropriate papers to the Headmaster, pass few tests in the Ministry and voilà. No, wait, before you interrupt me – it makes sense. We will sign up for the last year, this way we can meet wizards that are just beginning their life. And we will start this life with them."

Alexandra still hasn't looked convinced. Once more they set off in the direction of Cathy's apartment, which was situated further along Diagon Alley, where shops were giving way to private buildings. There weren't so many of the latters anyway. Very few wizards decided to live in such a noisy neighbourhood.

"We are supposed to spend a year in school?" asked Alexandra with distaste.

"Is it so bad in comparison to what's going to happen to all of us if we fail?" Cathy did not wish to use this argument. She didn't want to remember what has happened to them, but on the other hand, she had to convince Alexandra. She grabbed her by the arm, practically dragging inside the staircase of her tenement building and shoved her against the wall. Alexandra jerked away with a silent, uncontrolled growl.

"It is important," said Cathy with emphasis. "We have to do something. Fall into their good graces. Do you think it delights me? That I want to be lap dog of bloody wizards?"

"I know you don't," sighed Alexandra, calming down.

She involuntarily massaged the arm that Cathy's fingers were clawing at moment earlier. Vampires gained strength with age and Cathy walked this earth for some time now. She was reluctant to reveal how long exactly, and Alexandra hasn't met anyone older who was willing to give her an exact number. Maybe only Juliette, but she always was against talking about other people's business. She was mentioning something unclear about the time before the Covenant was signed.

"Fine, maybe you are right," said Alexandra. "We need to start somewhere."

There was something in her voice that suggested that she only wants to pacify Cathy, but Cathy herself didn't mind. She will worry about Alexandra's motives of actions later. For now, all that mattered was that she had her on her side. All in all, they had only each other, no one else in the world knew about the things they have seen.

They climbed up to the second floor, to Cathy's apartment. On the desk in hostess' study were, as always, an inkwell, a few envelopes and neatly arranged parchments. Vampires from the old families strongly believed in correspondence exchange and sending each other letters about even the most irrelevant of matters was an important part of their eternal existence. Cathy sat behind her desk almost immediately and started writing a letter to Armando Dippet, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, while Alexandra stared at portraits that have appeared on the walls since her last visit.

"I had them transported here from my safety box at Gringott's," Cathy explained, noticing what caught Alexandra's interest. "They are family heirlooms, or at least the part of collection that my parents gave me when I was leaving home."

There were four of the portraits, two on the side opposite door and on the left of them. They were framed in identical, simple frames and bore at the bottom labels with names, a little bit like museum exponents. Inhabitants of neither of them were moving, so they probably weren't magical paintings. Three of the paintings depicted men. On the surface they didn't have anything in common, but on the labels name "Ellis" was repeated. One of them, young and smiling rather seductively in comparison with other two ancestors' of Cathy's faces, who were wearing stiff, studied expressions, had the same as her, green eyes.

The last of the portraits presented a female vampire Alexandra had trouble tearing her eyes away from. Shamira Ellis, because that is what the label said, was hypnotically beautiful woman. She had fair skin, like most of the vampires, with which strongly contrasted impressive curls of long, dark hair and carmine lips curled in slight, mysterious smile. Big eyes the colour of emeralds were piercing Alexandra through. Having such shiny, extraordinary eyes, woman didn't have to worry about any trumpery. It was probably the reason why Shamira limited herself to two bracelets, one on each wrist, and a necklace. All three elements were consisting of simple, platinum bands decorated with oblong, milky-white stones. Apart from that Shamira was wearing white dress from a hard-to-define time period.

"Grandmother Shamira caught your interest?" asked Cathy knowingly. "Well, she's not actually my grandmother, but sister of my grandfather. I've never seen her in my life, she hasn't left her tomb for over five hundred years now. And if so, there is no chance for a return among the living. She must've gotten bored. It's hard to blame her, she's really ancient. She was probably born before the beginning of our era."

For a moment Cathy was studying her ancestor's face. At last she smiled to the portrait and got back to writing the letter.

"But I'll give her that, she's impressive," she added. "She was supposed to be really powerful, she was familiar with kinds of magic that nobody has any idea about nowadays. She didn't even pose to this portrait, it was based on another one that hangs in my parents' house. That one is very old, I think only conserving spells are keeping it in one piece."

It was hard to disagree with that. Alexandra guessed that in her times, Shamira was a power everyone must have reckoned with. In the meantime Cathy briskly signed the letter and took out her wand to dry the parchment. She was wondering when she will be old enough to fall into final sleep. Sure, even now she was spending few years at a time in her crypt, but that was something different. Few, even over a dozen years weren't half a millennium. Well, Shamira must've gained everything world had to offer and further life became tedious.

"Sign it," Cathy ordered. "Here, at the bottom."

When Alexandra completed this command and Cathy folded the parchment carefully and slid it into the prepared envelope, putting it on the stash of those prepared to be carried to the post office, the aura in the room changed visibly. Just as if they made the first step. Gone was sense of encirclement, constantly present at the bottom of Cathy's mind, feeling that any moment they may expect an attack. She was holding her life in her own hands again, she took back the wheel.

"Have you ever met Aster? Have you seen her at all?" Alexandra asked all of a sudden.

That was good question. Cathy shook her head. No, she's never met her. Aster gained her power very quickly, surprisingly quickly. She was from a good home, so she must've visited the Ellis Manor at some point, but Cathy wasn't present then. Later, when Aster took control of vampire revolution, she was practically inaccessible. And when the wizards brought serious artillery, she was killed almost instantly. The revolution was repressed, it practically expired by itself. However, wizards didn't stop.

"Me neither," admitted Alexandra. "I could pass her by on the street and I wouldn't even recognize her."

"She's probably red," stated Cathy. "Her mother is. Celia de Nox, I've seen her during some banquet."

Alexandra, whose hair was also red, seemingly wasn't pleased with this resemblance. Moments later her brow furrowed in deep consternation and Cathy thought that here is another example of disbelief that the bad guys also have parents. Psychopaths didn't hatch from eggs on some distant planet and weren't transported here in ready form. Aster loved to tear out still beating harts from chests of people begging her for mercy, but it didn't change the fact that her mother was keeping first cut lock of her hair in a decorative box.

Few days later, after preliminary examination of their request to join the student body, Headmaster Dippet sent Cathy an answer to her letter, in which he asked her for recommendations from the Ministry of Magic. Even though the London Covenant guaranteed vampires the right to education, work and living amongst humans in general, it still required them to go through some additional procedures. It was easy for Cathy to understand. It was hard for the Ministry to keep track of the files of every single vampire – after few centuries they would become awkwardly extensive. Department for Contacts with Vampires took care of that, and that is where Cathy and Alexandra headed to.

It was supposed to be their first time meeting other vampires since they've gotten here, excluding those met in Lilith's Arms, and Cathy wanted to make a good first impression. Even in the elevator, while riding to the correct floor, she was checking if she looks presentably in a pocket mirror. It was met by ironic, but not too ostentatious, look from Alexandra. They were getting used to each other.

Mirror vanished in Cathy's purse when elevator's door slid open. A female vampire with unruly curls of blond hair stepped inside. She smiled at Cathy and Alexandra and dimples appeared in her cheeks.

"To our Department?" she asked melodiously. "Same here. I need to pick up some recommendation if I want to apply for a job in a book store. Paranoia," she sighed.

Alexandra's expression was suggesting that any moment now she's going to ask why should they even care, but the vampire must have been very outgoing, because she continued anyway, not taken aback by the lack of response. "It can't be helped, right? I really want this job."

Cathy summoned polite smile she was usually using when she wasn't actually listening to the other person taking part in the conversation, but she wanted to look as if she was. Years spent participating in all kinds of banquets let her develop an entire fan of different facial expressions and gestures representing emotions she didn't feel at all.

"In which book store, if I may ask?" she showed her interest.

If it was physiologically possible, the vampire would have probably blushed. But because Mother Nature didn't give her such option, she had to be content with just looking embarrassed.

"It's nothing remarkable, really... White Ravens on Knockturn."

In response Cathy nodded her head, not letting her smile fade even for a moment. White Ravens was a book store well known for it's trade of not necessarily legally gained books, big part of which should have been burned long ago in some sort of ritual act in a public place, so dangerous were their contents. Cathy knew something about it, because she was shopping there sometimes, of course after making sure that none of her acquaintances would see her there. She couldn't help her interest in theoretical side of magic, even if it wasn't it's widely accepted variant. It didn't necessarily mean that she was going to or even wished to cast any of those dark spells.

"I'm terrible, aren't I?" exclaimed the vampire suddenly.

From the corner of her eye Cathy noticed how Alexandra, who was standing by the door, that is almost behind the back of turned towards Cathy vampire, is minimally nodding her head.

"I haven't even introduced myself. My mother would kill me, I swear."

The door slid open again and woman's voice stated number of the floor all three of them were supposed to leave the elevator on. The vampire walked out behind Alexandra, at the same time stretching her hand towards Cathy, who shook it awkwardly, putting her purse under her other arm.

"My name is Aster de Nox, pleased to meet you."

Few steps in front of them Alexandra froze in the mid movement like turned into a statue by Medusa's gaze, but Aster haven't noticed anything, instead looking at Cathy, whose false smile just turned into a lockjaw. Her facial muscles just refused to cooperate while she was simply staring at the vampire who, in several decades, will turn their world into ruin. She heard her own voice, which somehow managed to get out of her throat. "Catherine Ellis, and this is an acquaintance of mine, Alexandra Engels."

Aster inclined her head towards Alexandra and at last let go of Cathy's hand. She seemed to be absolutely oblivious to the emotions she arouse. Why would she even suspect them? For all Cathy knew, at this point an idea to change anything hasn't even arrived in her head, much less crazy thought to single-handedly lead a vampire army against wizards.

The conversation was cut off, luckily, by their arrival at the door of the Department for Contacts with Vampires. Aster bid them goodbye and purposefully strolled towards one of the offices – apparently it wasn't her first time here. Cathy and Alexandra, exchanging alarmed looks, approached desk of the secretary, a black vampire with a weak spot for low necklines. Cathy thought that if she had so much to present to the world, she would probably also be tempted to wear a dress with lower-cut top.

"How can we help you?" asked the secretary impersonally. Her name was Rebecca, if one believed the plaque on her desk.

Since Cathy had troubles gathering her thoughts, Alexandra explained their case. First Rebecca asked them to wait, and then she showed each of them a door behind her. Cathy walked into a room to the right from the one Aster disappeared into some time before.

What were the chances of meeting Aster during one, practically random visit? Coincidences always made Cathy suspicious.

She entered a small office with almost entire space taken by a simple desk and a filing cabinet. Behind the desk, on a swivel chair sat a dhampire. His general demeanour suggested that he isn't especially comfortable where he is. Even though they were in a room, he was wearing sunglasses – half-vampires always had bigger troubles with light-sensitivity than vampires. Cathy pondered that he haven't moved from behind his desk for some time now; he had exceptionally wrinkled look, as if he didn't go home after work, just curled into a fetal position on the floor of his office and slept like that.

"Miss Ellis," he made sure in a raspy voice. "I'm David Donovan, consultant in the are of long-term vampires-humans contacts."

At the very last moment Cathy managed to bit her tongue before she noticed out loud that David himself apparently is an effect of such a contact. Instead, she just nodded. They didn't shake hands. Relations between dhampires and vampires always were a little strained and no covenant was regulating that.

"I'll help you to fill in an adequate form and the results of our expertise will be send to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry within ten working days."

He waved his wand into general direction of one of the cabinets and a long scroll of parchment landed on his desk. He pointed tip of the wand at it and started reading in a monotonous, bored tone of someone who have read it one hundred times too many. Cathy found out that his lack of enthusiasm is easily transmitted and after a moment she took on a similar, apathetic tone, giving him shortest answers possible.

After a quarter of an hour she started to be impatient. She was tapping a rhythm with her heel on the floor, but David did not let her irritate him. So Cathy sighed heavily and gave him the necessary information that no, she has no criminal record.

Only once did she teleport with Alexandra back to her apartment, which became their unofficial base of operations, did she breath a sigh of relief. Alexandra collapsed onto the soft sofa in the living room, cuddling a cushion to her chest. Cathy was pacing, wandering from door to window, rubbing her hands together in a nervous gesture. She kept touching her finger, as if looking for a ring that should have been there and then she was remembering that it's lost and lowering her hands only to start the entire process all over again seconds later.

"Have you seen her wrist?" asked Alexandra, resting her chin on the cushion.

Stopping mid-movement, Cathy looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"What? I was too busy staring at Aster de Nox as a whole, her wrist was of no consequence to me."

"Your bad, Caherine." Despite the situation they were in, Alexandra managed to look smug. She smiled with superiority that was supposed to prove that Cathy may be older and she may have vampires with tendencies towards ridiculously big portraits for ancestors, but she certainly wasn't the most perceptive one.

"The bracelet on Aster's wrist," said Alexandra emphatically, but Cathy just shook her head. "It was identical to the one your grandmother was wearing."

"Shamira's? Aster's wearing Shamira's bracelet? It's not so odd, actually. We are some sort of distant cousins, practically all old vampire families are related, somewhat like with pure blooded wizards. I've never seen this jewellery at home, so it must have been indeed passed to some distant relatives. Or it's just a coincidence and Aster have bought something similar," she added after some thought. "I don't think it means anything. Or at least not anything more important than the fact that we've met Aster de Nox not a month after we travelled back in time."

She collapsed onto the armchair opposite Alexandra, who still didn't look convinced. Cathy started to suspect that they will never agree on anything, but for the peace of mind she promised to ask her parents about the whereabouts of jewellery from the picture as soon as possible. She wasn't planning on keeping that promise, or at least at writing home specifically for that purpose.

"At least we know she's not red," she murmured and Alexandra glared at her murderously.

In the meantime this entire matter was ignored and eventually nearly forgotten, because by the end of July both Cathy and Alexandra received letters from Hogwarts congratulating them on being accepted and listing everything they will need in school. Alexandra shut her eyes tightly after reading the latter, anticipating another reason for Cathy to go shopping. She wasn't wrong, of course. Alexandra was actually pretty impressed that someone is able to remain in the state of constant, untouched by experience shallowness even in their current situation.

Maybe that's because on the 1st of September Alexandra found herself standing in a long line of students waiting for their sorting, looking at Cathy sitting on a stool in the middle of the hall and praying that Alexandra herself will be sorted anywhere else but not where Cathy was about to be put.

Cathy was undergoing a process of personality analysis by a millennial artefact with honest interest. She just reached a conclusion that she and the Sorting Hat are the two oldest things in the entire hall. The Hat was murmuring into Cathy's ear.

"It is one very interesting story, Catherine Ellis. If you came here the first time you were living this period, I would have probably sorted you differently. But now... You yourself have to wait and see who you will become. You want everything and you know how to reach for it. You are manipulative, if _your_ cause calls for it. You are bright and committed, but at the same time prejudiced and loyal to maybe wrong set of beliefs. I shall send you where you can decide about yourself..."

Cathy, who have wrinkled her nose due to the fragment about being manipulative and prejudiced, now focused her full attention on the Hat. She looked up, at the tattered brim of the head wear. Second later tear of the seam opened like a mouth and screechy voice exclaimed for the whole hall to hear, up to the point when echo recoiled against the walls.

"Slytherin!"

Applause rang out at the table decorated in silver and green. Cathy sent one last glance to the Sorting Hat, placing it on the stool, curtseyed in the general direction of the Headmaster and the Professors and headed towards the the table furthest to the right. She sat in a free sit next to two girls that were most probably from her year. Guessing humans' ages wasn't her strong point, but they looked to be ones of the oldest students. They looked at her haughtily and went back to whispered conversation. Slytherin students apparently didn't fall into the most social category. And now Cathy was one of them.

She turned on her sit so that she could continue to watch the Sorting Ceremony. Professor Dumbledore, a tall wizard with long, ginger beard, just called Alexandra out. In her case the Hat wasn't pondering too long. Very quickly Alexandra became a Ravenclaw student. She sat at the table next to the Slytherin's one and leaned over the broad passage between two tables in Cathy's direction.

"Congratulations on the Sorting," she whispered sarcastically.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was a vampire, Cathy wouldn't even be able to hear her. At the moment she would much more prefer not to have such accurate hearing. It wasn't hard to guess what Alexandra thought about Cathy now. Slytherin was a house for many wizards with bad reputation, practitioners of Dark Magic. In Alexandra's eyes Cathy practically has been already classified in their ranks. Really, her support was most helpful.

For the rest of the feast celebrating beginning of the school year Cathy was examining the enchanted ceiling, where across the night sky grey, tattered clouds ranged. She forgot how does it feel to be in a closed room with so many humans, hear hundreds of hearts beating, smelling tempting blood. Cathy was a civilised person and she was certainly far from throwing herself at someone's throat, but she was glad she wasn't hungry, because it could strain her self-control. She hasn't regained her full strength after lethargy yet, but she was feeling better. Gone were dark circles under her eyes and morbid paleness. As a matter of fact, she could be taken for one of the seventeen-years-olds.

"Say, new girl," said a brunette sitting next to Cathy unexpectedly. "Is it true what they say? You're a vampire?"

She directed her dark eyes towards Cathy with interest, as if she could read the answer in her face. Well, probably somewhere existed magical creatures specialists who could tell a vampire from human in a crowded place from a long distance. Naturally, vampires themselves could do that, too.

The other one of the girls Cathy noticed at the beginning, with dark brown hair and melancholy glance, leaned over to better hear this exchange.

"All my life," answered Cathy. "Do call me Cathy."

This apparently impressed both Slytherin girls. They weren't sure if they should approve of it or not, so for now they decided to introduce themselves.

"I am Druella Rosier," said brunette, "and this is Lucretia Black. You will love it in Slytherin, Cathy. If the Hat put you here, it must mean you fit with us."

It wasn't too heart-warming picture and Cathy was glad when the feast reached it's end. In the general commotion crowd separated her from Druella and Lucretia. She didn't try to exchange few words with Alexandra in private, instead just following her new house's Prefects in the direction of dormitories.

Maze of corridors in dungeons was dark, except for few occasional torches. Students of first year, who were walking ahead of Cathy, seemed slightly disturbed by this perspective. Also in Cathy's experience dungeons weren't the best accommodations in the entire castle. It couldn't be healthy for the mortals, all that dampness and lack of sunlight. This could be good only for dhampires.

The Common Room didn't please Cathy either. It was bathed in green light which made students look like zombies. Green sofas and tables with tops covered with nacre concentrated into little islands looked quite encouraging, but the air was unpleasantly humid. They were beneath the lake. Thousands gallons of water somewhere over her head weren't putting Cathy in a good mood. Perhaps she just discovered in herself claustrophobia that never made itself known during laying in sarcophagus.

"Are you okay?"

It was the second time this evening Cathy has been caught staring at the ceiling. People probably started to suspect that not everything was fine with her. She smiled apologetically to the boy who talked to her. He momentarily reminded her of Marco, her vampire friend, even though upon further inspection it appeared that the wizard is a bit shorter and has light-blue eyes. He looked younger, too, and lacked this aura of danger. She missed Marco.

"Yes, thank you, it's just that... I've never even let them bury me in a coffin and now I'm supposed to live underground!"

All of Cathy's frustration was contained in this slightly meaningless cry. The boy looked at her for a moment suspiciously, before he said slowly and carefully, as if he was addressing someone out of their mind who is holding a bottle of nitroglycerin, "All right... That's very good. Keep it up. I've heard that being buried alive isn't too pleasant."

And then Cathy started laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter three, in which Cathy slithers into Slytherin's good graces.**

Actually, it was hard for Cathy to say what amused her so. Maybe the expression of the unknown wizard. Maybe the fact how ironic it was that she, a vampire, had finally found herself underground. Maybe it was simply hysterical laughter of someone who has found themselves finally relieved from the tension, or at least part of it. She had no idea. It was enough to say that for quite a moment she couldn't calm herself down and the boy was looking at her with growing concern.

"I'm sorry," she chocked out at last, straightening up. "I have no idea what has gotten into me. I am Catherine. Cathy."

"Corbin Sullivan. For a moment there you had such a lost expression, I thought perhaps something's wrong."

A lot was wrong with Cathy's life, but she couldn't tell him that, of course. But he was the only nice person she had met in this castle, so she tried to keep her mind open and not scare Corbin away at the very beginning.

"Want me to show you your dormitory?" he asked all of a sudden.

There was no Prefect in vicinity and asking Druella and Lucretia for hints didn't seem like a particularly pleasant solution. Cathy nodded. Corbin led her through narrow corridor carved in stone. On both sides were doors and on them plates with names and surnames, and years, too. From time to time the corridor was splitting into two until at last Cathy was sure that tomorrow morning, when she'll be trying to get to class, she'll get lost in this maze and her dried-out remains will be found many years later. She shared this observation with Corbin, but he only laughed silently.

"You can get used to it after some time. Well, here we are. The doorknob will open only under your touch, nobody undesirable won't come in without your permission."

It was some way to guard your privacy. Cathy pressed the snake-shaped doorknob and stepped into a chamber that was to be her bedroom for the upcoming ten months.

First of all it was surprisingly bright, thanks to dozens of candles floating just under the ceiling. Possibly only due to magic there was any air to breathe here, because naturally there was no window. Against one wall stood a four-poster bed with green bedsheets, against the other – bureau, dresser and her trunk. Bathrooms, from what Cathy managed to learn, were in the corridor.

"This is girls' corridor, we live on the other side of the Common Room," Corbin explained. "Slughorn's trying to keep the semblance of decency, but I bet that Black hasn't seen her own bed in a long time."

In a way it was hard to hold that against her. Cathy didn't want to stay in this tomb alone, either, but she hardly could ask Corbin to stay with her. That is to say, she could, but this proposition would probably be taken in a bad way. She involuntarily rubbed her forearms, even though she practically couldn't feel cold.

"You'll get used to it," Corbin assured her mildly.

"I do hope so. Thank you for your help, I'd get lost here on my own."

"No big deal. See you tomorrow at breakfast?"

He left without a good-bye, closing behind him the door that they left wide open. Cathy fell onto the bed, spreading her arms wide. She was trying to imagine next ten moths here and couldn't. She wondered, how was Alexandra coping? Probably better. At least Ravenclaws weren't living in underwater caves. Cathy understood the whole snake analogy and atmosphere of darkness, but come on.

She fetched her nightgown out of trunk and went to bathroom. The corridors were empty, but she still could hear voices coming from the Common Room. Slytherin students had richer night life than a vampire. Personally Cathy felt numb after the train ride, so she climbed onto bed with graciousness and pulled the covers to her chin. She fell asleep shortly after, ready for traditional every-night nightmares about the future she was supposed to prevent.

The next morning Cathy woke up very early. She was suspecting that Sun hadn't risen yet, but she was more like feeling the morning than being aware of it – lack of windows was taking its toll. She went in search of the Great Hall. Even getting to the Common Room turned out to be problematic, not to mention that there wasn't anybody there to give her any tips on further road. Fixing her bag's strap on her shoulder, Cathy wandered into the heart of dungeons , trying to recreate path she crossed previous evening. She was choosing the corridors in which scent of humans was most distinct, which was suggesting that they are used most often.

In the Great Hall there weren't many students present yet. Most numerous were those sitting at Ravenclaw table, discussing over an open book. Alexandra wasn't among them, so Cathy sat alone at the Slytherin table. Apart from her, there was a handful of first-year students who couldn't sleep because of the excitement connected with first day of school. They were glancing at Cathy suspiciously when she was tearing her toast to shreds. Human food was presenting no nutritious value to her and usually she was able to eat only a small amount once in a while before she got nauseous. As far as she knew, the view of someone drinking blood was disgusting to humans, so it was hard to expect them to allow her to do it during common meals. According to what she established with Headmaster Dippet, kitchen house elves were to bring her animal blood to her dormitory upon request.

Animal blood, of course, had taste far worse than that of a human, but it was legal, and as such, easier to acquire. The Covenant was regulating that issue, too, and drinking human blood was a topic of entire paragraph. It had to take place upon consent of both sides, in un-public areas, in amounts not stating a hazard to donnor's health. It was forbidden to store human blood, keep it on you and so on. Sometimes Cathy was in a mood when this whole ordeal seemed to be worth it. Of course a lot depended on the mortal. Curiously, the Covenant wasn't mentioning anything about vampires drinking blood of other immortals. Apparently it was a private matter and no one wanted to chide in. Actually, vampires also spoke about it rarely. Some of them did it, others didn't. It was commonly regarded as something intimate and somewhat snobbish. Cathy took part in such an experience a few times, but she wasn't too keen on talking about it. All of these times took place with one and the same vampire.

"The toast is dead, leave it."

Consumed with her own thoughts, Cathy hadn't noticed that her plate was now filled with tiny crumbs that she involuntarily tried to shred with her fingers into even tinier ones. Corbin sat next to her, systematically filling his own plate with scrambled eggs. To Cathy it looked disgusting. Something a chick should hatch out of and which came out of a private hole on a bird's body. Incomplete life.

"I sort of assumed you are the type of girl to spend hours in the bathroom."

"I am this type," confessed Cathy reluctantly, because there was no point in denying it. "I just woke up early and decided that I may as well wait here, not in dormitory."

Because Corbin couldn't speak with his mouth full of bread that he was eating with scrambled eggs, he just shrugged. In the meantime Cathy's attention was caught by a short, plump Professor, who was walking along the table, handing students their class schedules. Corbin swallowed with visible effort and explained that this is Professor Slughorn, Head of their House and Potions teacher. Most of the Slytherins managed to gather at the breakfast by now and at the moment they were taking pieces of parchment from the teacher, after which they were studying them loudly, making comments. Above their heads owls were flying, delivering first post this year.

"Enjoy your mean, Mr. Sullivan," said Slughorn, with looking at Corbin with some distaste. "Class schedules, yes... Miss Ellis, how are you finding Hogwarts so far?"

"I haven't seen much except for the dungeons," answered Cathy, tactfully not adding that this part had not delighted her.

"At the beginning the magnitude of the castle may overwhelm, it is true," nodded Slughorn, as if an alternative version of Cathy's words reached his ears. "I do believe that in case of trouble you can count on help."

"Yes, Corbin–" began Cathy, but the Professor interrupted her idly, as if he didn't hear her at all.

"You are lucky to share a House with current Head Boy!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Tom will surely serve you with advice. Congratulations, my boy, congratulations once more. Of course I haven't expected nothing less, model student, awarded..."

The last two sentences were directed to a boy who just sat down near them. Cathy raised her eyes at him to see him receiving congratulations with humble and polite nod. She was briefly remembering him from yesterday feast. He was lean and tall, which was evident even when he was sitting. He had dark hair with exceptionally even parting, in which even vampire's eyes couldn't spot an imperfection. On his worn-out robe a Head Boy badge was pinned.

"Tom Riddle," said Corbin, whispering straight into Cathy's ear. "Slughorn's favourite."

There was a lot of truth in what somebody has once said: men loved gossip, even if women were less subtle in their affections. Cathy appreciated constant flow of information, even if they didn't make a logical whole, as of now. She knew singular people in entire Hogwarts, so that which Corbin was saying was rather abstract.

According to the schedule handed to Cathy by Slughorn her first lesson today were supposed to be Charms with Professor Willborough. With honest interest she took off in the direction pointed to her by Corbin – charms had always been her main interest. One could say it was circulating in her family. She had no exceptional magical talent, but she had quite some theoretical knowledge, which she was deepening nearly whole long life.

Majority of Seventh Year students decided to take Charms on N. E. W. T., exams at the end of school, level, so almost all Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were present in the classroom. Cathy sat in the row by the window, trying to look at the sky before she got back to the dungeon. She rested her cheek on the hand, determined to listen to Willborough's lecture at the same time. For the first quarter it was fairly easy, because the wiry Professor was talking in an engaging way, even if fits of his own coughing were stopping him all the time. Far more distracting were other students' looks. Cathy was wondering about their specific message. They weren't just curious, there was something more to it. She straightened up in her chair and started listening, but this time not to the teacher, but to whispers around her.

Ah, but of curse, there was the vampire thread in it, as always. Especially witches and wizards from Muggle families didn't know what to expect, fed with trumped up stories full of nightgowns and silver crosses. She didn't care too much about that. A lot more informative was the whispered conversation between Druella and Lucretia taking place at the front of classroom, practically under Willborough's nose. Its pieces were drowned out by loud coughing, but the general thought reached Cathy anyway. Almost everyone in the room was wondering is she's Gellert Grinwelwald's follower.

Why did everyone always assume that vampires had to stick with The Bad of any given period? Cathy knew out of experience that it wasn't a rule. Sure, some were tempted by the sweet words, but truthfully, Grindelwald took no interest in help from vampires, his vision concerned only wizarding world, so he looked upon vampires as mere tools. It wasn't too convincing manifesto for the concerned themselves. A lot more followed in his time Lord Voldemort, probably even Aster de Nox was closely watching his actions.

As soon as this thought appeared in Cathy's head, she wend still like under a spell. She shut her eyes tight for a moment, begging that her memory may in this very case be faulty. She heard about it so long ago that she could've confused something. The real name of Voldemort, the one he was using in his youth, and which he then abandoned for carefully designed pseudonym, couldn't possibly be Tom Riddle. Cathy refused to accept that she is this unlucky. It was impossible, she couldn't believe that every single bad guy from the carts of history had to stand in her way. Aster, fine, this could be a coincidence. If something like that was repeating itself, this was starting to be fate's malice.

Very carefully, as if being caught meant instant death, Cathy looked to the right and front, at the chair occupied by Tom Riddle. She could see only the back of his head and rigid back, so it was very hard to tell if he's going to turn into the most powerful dark wizard known to modern history any moment now. Just in case, Cathy was watching him discreetly, well aware what will it mean if it will turn out she's right. One false step and she could not live to see the future she was going to change. Voldemort had no sentiments in getting rid of those who stood in his way and Cathy, in her plan to gain leadership among vampires, could involuntarily fall into this category.

Later that day, during lunch, Cathy tried to read anything from Tom's face. It turned out that if he wasn't at the moment being a model student in company of one of the Professor, his face took on an indifferent, almost cold expression, as if its owner temporarily went somewhere, not going to the trouble of leaving any facial expression behind. His dark eyes were revealing a keen nature, but only if something caught his interest. After that he was going back to not revealing anything, along with any traces of inner life. After classes, when Cathy was nearly sure that Tom's not going to start murdering everyone in the vicinity in the fir of rage and calmed down, repeating to herself that after all, he was going to school with a lot of people and considerable part of them lived to give testimony to this fact, she decided to find Alexandra. It wasn't too hard, the only vampire in the entire school was showing brightly on Cathy's private radar, which was a part of her vampire instincts. She found her in the library, which was a great example of getting into role. Only yesterday was Alexandra sorted into Ravenclaw and now she was keeping up the opinion of the House most dedicated to studying.

"Guess, what?" said Cathy, standing just behind Alexandra's back.

"You're bad at sneaking up? Seriously, Catherine, I never thought you will miss me so soon."

Not really listening to what Alexandra was saying, Cathy looked around in the aisle made of tall shelves full of books. Upon making sure that there is no one in hearing distance, she leaned forward and whispered with emphasis, "I am in class with Voldemort."

Alexandra's expression was recompensing Cathy entire day worth of stress. Vampire's eyes went wide with shock and for a moment she simply didn't know what to say. At last she decided on tested in such situations, traditional, a little bit muffled "What?". Cathy repeated patiently.

"Exactly what was missing, seriously," sighed Alexandra. "They should bottle you up and sell as Amulet Bringing Bad Luck. I'm staring to be scared of the perspective of Astronomy lesson with you. Surely a meteorite will fall on us or at least the classroom will collapse."

"It is not my fault!" resented Cathy. "Was I the one to sign him to Hogwarts seven years ago?"

"No, but you did sign us. Why did I even listen to you?"

Cathy had an answer at the tip of her tongue, but Alexandra waved her hand, shaking her head at the same time, which gave her the look of a person suffering from an attack of exceptionally annoying insect.

"Never mind. Just keep away from him, don't tempt the fate."

"I figured it out myself," snorted Cathy. "I wasn't going to run to the Common Room to introduce myself and propose conquering the world together, if that's what you mean."

Despite Cathy's sarcastic assurances, Alexandra didn't look convinced. Deciding that their everyday argument can be crossed out of the list of things to do, Cathy rolled her eyes and left the library, waving over her shoulder. She preferred to sit in the dungeon than to listen to Alexandra's accusations. Well, maybe not actually. Somewhere near the Entrance Hall she lost all her determination and the idea of coming back underground stopped to look so great. She didn't have much of a choice, so she dragged herself to the Great Hall anyway, and then further still, to her bedroom. Despite intangible doom floating in the air, her days at Hogwarts were promising to be mostly dull. Actually, in upcoming two weeks her only entertainment were conversations with Corbin. Among other things, she found out he's a half-blood wizard, which in eyes of remaining Slytherins made him a person unworthy of their company. Cathy valued the irony of situation, in which Tom was deemed worthy all right, even though his background was exactly the same. Well, Tom had charisma and a kind of magnetic charm that Corbin couldn't mimic, even if he wanted. Most likely he just didn't care. Cathy wondered who he was sticking with before her arrival.

And then, two weeks after coming to Hogwarts, Cathy received a short letter from Professor Slughorn, in which he invited her to a meeting of Slug Club. From Corbins's descriptions it seemed as if these were meetings of mutual adoration club, during which Potions Master surrounded himself with those who, in his opinion, had in the future a chance of occupying lucrative positions or achieving something great. Alexandra decided it's a nonsense and loss of time and explicitly refused to participate, but Cathy, true to the idea of socialising, decided to try and sacrifice one evening. After all, she didn't have nothing better to do. Plus, it sounded like a good omen, and Cathy never could quite get rid of that bit of superstition sitting inside her.

After wrestling with all pros and cons, Cathy stood under Slughorn's office's door late. It wasn't a fashionable kind of late in order to gain a good entrance; she simply wasn't sure up till the very last moment if she won't listen to this irritating little voice in her head speaking in Alexandra's tone, that was informing her that such a vanity fair can at the very best bust her ego.

"Ah, Cathy!" greeted her Slughorn from his armchair, once she went inside. "Can I address you like that? I've heard you prefer this form."

Cathy nodded, only for a moment wondering where the Professor has heard it exactly. If addressing by given name someone who could be even several times older than you he considered to be a way of building a friendly, homey atmosphere, Cathy wasn't about to argue.

"Sit wherever you want."

She looked in the direction of the sofas and mentally slapped herself on the back of her head. Of course, obviously. On the main spot, with his legs crossed and general posture of easy self-satisfaction, sat nobody else but Tom Riddle himself. Apart from him there were others present: Abraxas Malfoy of Slytherin and few other students she knew only is passing, but never got to meet. Professor introduced them as Henry Prewett, Domenic Villey and Luckas Johnson. Villey was from Ravenclaw, the remaining two – Gryffindor. Cathy couldn't help but notice that her appearance caused the Slytherins to outnumber all other houses, if one did not include Slughorn as one of them, that is.

She sat between Abraxas and Domenic, who were taking up one big couch, but were trying to keep as much space as possible between them. She had no desire to act as a buffer between them, but the negative emotions were impossible to ignore. Cathy put the blame on raging testosterone and focused her eyes on Slughorn, who was just trying to interest her in a chocolate. She thanked him firmly, which was awarded by a joke that indeed, he should had bought blood-flavoured lollipops that were sold in Honeydukes.

"Say, Cathy, aren't you by chance related to Gavriel Ellis?" queried Slughorn once forced laughter died out.

To her utter shock, Cathy noticed that even Tom had smiled, even though it was more of a curving of lips having nothing to do with actual amusement. She strongly doubted if he had ever smiled fully honestly, so this alone was a phenomenon worth noting. Well, maybe he did smile – while torturing his victims. This vision wasn't very helpful in situation when one shared one roof with him and Cathy rapidly came back to reality, leaving such thoughts for later, if she in example wanted to enrich her nightmares by adding to them an element of Voldemort.

"He is my father," she said.

She had strong urge to add "by chance", but taking in consideration the kind of sense of humour favoured here it could be understood mistakenly. Slughorn's interest was momentarily piqued and possibly Cathy only imagined it, but for a moment Tom was looking at her with something very odd in his eyes. It was hard for her to take a good look, she would have to lean awkwardly over Domenic. It would be hard not to seem suspicious doing that. Slughorn asked her few more general questions concerning her family and herself, after which he got to the part of the meeting that seemed to cause him the greatest satisfaction: monologue. Munching generously on the chocolates, he talked about famous wizards he knew and his with them meetings and also about how he helped them to gain their current position. It was hard not to notice that from the entire gathered company he favourited Tom. From time to time he would speak directly to him, referring to some past conversations or weaving into his stories compliments about Tom's uncanny magical gift. Cathy caught herself repeating in her mind indulgently: "If you only knew how your pupil will use this uncanny gift.. If you had any idea..." She was sure that even though Slughorn was vain, he wasn't evil per se and he wouldn't be consciously praising someone who is planning on becoming Dark Lord. In his school years nobody knew what is going to come out of Voldemort.

Nobody knew, but one person expected. Cathy draw great comfort from Albus Dumbledore's presence in the castle. It was common knowledge that he was the one keeping Grindelwald away from England, but the knowledge that he's keeping at bay his worthy successor remained a privilege only Cathy and Alexandra shared.

The meeting was, all in all, quite funny, but way too long. There was strictly defined amount if time Cathy could tolerate testosterone war between Abraxas and Domenic and Slughorn's overgrown ego's parade. This amount had been exceeded by two hours at best. When Cathy got out on the corridor, silence coming from lack of constant logorrhea of Potion Master was buzzing in her ears for a long moment. To top it up, this experience made her strangely hungry.

On her way to the Common Room Cathy haven't seen neither Tom nor Abraxas, but she hardly cared what and where are they up to. Ever since she found out that she shares the House with future Lord Voldemort naturally a thought has crossed her mind that she could stop also one other war by stopping the Dark Lord from reaching his full power, but this thought didn't stay long. Meddling in the past was risky and Cathy was going to make one vital change anyway. Also, in her head it wasn't her business. Obviously the war with Voldemort had touched her, too, there was no other option, but it was mostly wizards' problem. If not this one, another would stumble onto the very same idea. Anyway, the good ones won in the end, didn't they? They won to later decimate her own race. She knew that in theory they hadn't done it yet and she wasn't blaming and hating every wizard she met, but surely she couldn't awaken any empathy for their loses in herself, either.

"How was it?" inquired Corbin when Cathy was crossing the Common Room, but she just shook her head.

"Shh!" she murmured, touching her finger to lips. "I'm going to go regale in silence now. I'll see you at breakfast."

Looking after her, Corbin sniggered silently, and when she sent him a look full of reproach, he mouthed soundless "I told you so!". She didn't like it when others were right, not her, so she ignored the provocation and moment later she was in her dormitory. She called one of the kitchen house elves to herself and a few minutes later she was sitting on her bed, sipping warm, animal blood. She identified its source as a pig.

Livestock tasted worse than wild animals, but she couldn't blame the elves that they didn't know the subtle differences in the taste of vampire delicacy. It was hard to expect them to go through with tasting.

Silent chuckle escaped Cathy's throat when she imagined to herself a strange hybrid between an house elf and a vampire. Just as soon it died on her lips, because she realised what she's doing. She's laughing to her thoughts in an empty room.

"I swear, if I rot in these dungeons any longer, I shall surely lose my mind," she sighed.

Only after a moment did she comprehend that she said it out loud and apparently addressing herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four, in which Cathy learns about existence of a certain book.**

According to Juliette, the most stupid ideas come from boredom. The fact that she was often repeating this sentence and tried to give her pupils some sort of activity so that they wouldn't have time to participate in silly nonsense was speaking very well about intelligence of the vampire. Sadly, not even continuous repetition of this simple piece of good advice could cause Cathy to take Juliette's words to heart. Provoked by boredom she started indulging in thoughts that resulted in conclusion that right diet plays very important role in staying healthy and keeping general balance. Therefore Cathy was hurting herself by feeding all the time on blood from unknown source, brought to her by unknown house elves. This just could not be good for her, now could it?

She decided that the only logical solution is to hunt. The Forbidden Forest sounded in stories like a very promising place and Cathy could easily sacrifice one night worth of sleep to see with her own eyes what sort of creatures live there. So she waited until the Common Room was empty, exchanged her traditional high-heeled pumps for tied-up, flat boots more suitable for direct contacts with nature, and she started putting her plan of sneaking out of the castle to life.

When she wanted, Cathy could be very silent and sneaking didn't cause her much trouble, contrary to what Alexandra thought. If her life didn't go as planned, she could always try crime. Becoming a burglar should be fairly easy, even though her parents probably wouldn't be too happy with another bad idea of Cathy's.

Forbidden Forest did not disappoint her, on the contrary, it was even more exciting than she wanted it to be. She experienced a few close meetings with creatures inhabiting it, including centaurs, but she came out of most of them unscathed. Only once she wandered far in the direction of the heart of the forest, feeding on predators smaller than her as she went, she stumbled onto something that caused automatic defensive reaction in her body. Low, animal-like growl with which vampires inform their surroundings about readiness to attack filled the air. Forest troll answered her with unintelligible, but hostile murmur. He was at least twice as tall as Cathy, with skin in a greenish colour. He was watching her with narrowed little eyes, apparently trying to analyse in his tiny brain whether she's edible.

The evaluation must have given positive results, because a mossy hand shot towards Cathy. But vampire was too fast for him and hand clutched at nothingness. Troll raised his head, snarling with irritation in general direction of Cathy, who now was sitting on a tree bench above him. She jumped down onto moss and disappeared behind a fallen tree-trunk. Troll lifted it effortlessly and hit Cathy with it like with gigantic baseball bat. With loud moan, Cathy fell to the ground. She yanked her wand out of her pocket, but before she managed to cast a spell, forest monster caught her wand-hand and raised vampire to his face. Loathsome smile curled his lips and troll opened his mouth wide, apparently preparing to have a great bite out of vampire.

The only trouble was, Cathy definitely wasn't going to become a snack. She was used to the position at the top of the food chain, as the ultimate predator, and she was planning on defending it. Curving her fingers like claws, she took a swig towards troll's face. Blood spurted when she jerked violently, tearing eyeball out of eye-socket. She felt sick, but the angry troll threw her away, waving his hands around as if it could ease his pain. Spots appeared before Cathy's eyes when back of her head came in contact with a tree. Nevertheless she rapidly stood up, dazed but determined, and aimed her wand at the thrashing troll.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Green light shone and the giant body fell to the ground lifelessly. Cathy stood above it for a long moment, trying to catch technically unnecessary breath.

She didn't touch troll's blood. Even the thought caused unpleasant sensation in her stomach. Blood of all the magical creatures was different from that of humans or animals, which was only a meal. Some creatures managed to create a defensive mechanism, like dragons. In the unlikely event that Cathy did manage to win a fight with enormous lizard, the thing that streamed in its veins would almost certainly bring her death. For wizards just a potion ingredient, for vampires – poison without an antidote. Unicorn blood was a taboo. Anyway, Cathy already had immortality. And if it wasn't the case, she didn't think she could kill something so innocent. There were boundaries no one should cross, under no circumstances. Blood of another vampire was not something to discuss, dhampire – strange perversity, werewolf – a prize for battle won, similar to drug, addicting. Troll blood was giving strength, or so they said, but it came with a price. The one who tasted it took upon himself wildness and frenzy of trolls, was losing himself, exchanging for arguable gain. Cathy wouldn't use this option, not even if her life depended on it. After all, she wouldn't be herself after that anyway. They said that just a bit of the forbidden substance doesn't change anything, that if you mix it in right proportions with human blood, troll blood wasn't as degenerating as the rumour claimed. Cathy had seen with her very eyes as those who said so were heading towards bottom.

She turned around and started walking towards the castle in a decided, slightly limping walk. She had enough attractions for one night; she felt that this need was fully satisfied.

Minor scratches and abrasions healed themselves before she even reached the line of last trees in Forbidden Forest. With aid of magic she put her cloak in order and cleaned herself out of moss and soil. She pulled the hood over her head and took off towards the castle again. It must've been very late, because all the windows were dark and there was not a single light visible. This time Cathy didn't sneak around so cautiously, assuming that everybody must be in beds by now.

To her surprise, someone was still in the Common Room after all. Cathy had heard beating of a heart while she was still on the other side of a stone wall serving as an enchanted entrance. On the first glance room looked empty, bud sounds of pulse and breath and smell revealed proximity of a human. She felt a tempting, calling aroma of blood, inviting even though she fed in the last two hours. She could feel the well-known feeling of hunger and she involuntarily slid her tongue over sharp fangs. This scent seemed familiar, but not because she tasted this blood before. Her body knew its smell, remembered it from another life.

"Ellis."

She stopped in the middle of the Common Room, piercing the darkness with her eyes. From the armchair closest to the burned-out fire arose Tom Riddle. Cathy was sure that she was nothing more but a silhouette in the darkness for him, but it didn't stop him from looking at her intently, as if he was expecting something.

"I need to speak with you," he said. "Come with me."

Instinct and common sense were warning her in unison not to do this, but she wasn't too convinced if she had any choice. Run away? Not too smart. Pushed by lack of options and unhealthy curiosity, she went after Tom to his dormitory. She kept save distance of few paces, but when he opened the door for her, she had to walk right by him.

"Make yourself at home," he said with irony, heading towards his trunk.

Room's layout was basically identical to that belonging to Cathy. She took the armchair she usually sat in in her dormitory and after a moment Tom walked over to her and unceremoniously dropped something onto her lap. While Tom was lighting up the candles floating in the air, Cathy looked down. The object resting on her lap was a book. It had unhandy, big format and was bound in light leather, with title spelled out in white. "Mortus Lux Lucis," read Cathy. "The Dead Light". These words meant absolutely nothing to her, but is sounded a bit like a title for a bad horror, one of these sold for a few knuts at the post office. Cathy opened the book at the last page and slid her finger across the table of contests, catching particular chapter names.

"It's an illegal thing, Riddle," she stated, turning the volume around in her hand. "Necromancy is banned by law, you can go to Azkaban for it."

"Check the author," ordered Tom.

Sending him a short glance from beneath raised eyebrows, Cathy opened the book with exaggerated caution, this time on the first page. She did it as slow as she could on purpose, trying to annoy him even a bit in exchange for his approach. She looked down, at the title page, and suddenly jumped out of the armchair so fast that human eye couldn't even register the moment of movement. One second she sat there peacefully, and the other stood beneath one of the candles, as if addition light could change that which was so obviously spelled out just in front of her eyes.

The author of "Mortuus Lux Lucis" was Shamira Ellis, sister of her grandfather. This vampire appeared, yet another time, in Cathy's life, even if not in person. First her painting intrigued Alexandra, then a bracelet that possible used to be hers appeared on Aster de Nox's wrist, and now this. Shamira turned out to be the author of a book about necromancy, which piqued Tom Riddle's interest. Cathy never suspected her ancestress of interest in such a magic. Why would necromancy be of any meaning to a vampire, who has already won with death, was immortal, eternal, constant?

"What is this supposed to be?" asked Cathy in frustration, waving the book around in the air.

"It is a book. Inside knowledge is contained. Try to focus, Ellis. This volume comes from your family. You have to know something about it."

Even if in Tom's opinion Cathy had to, she actually had no idea. Of course, in her house there were lots of books written by members of her family, among which most frequently as author Shamira was listed. Not even once was it anything about communicating with the dead, creating Inferi and zombie, attempting to raise from death, all of it which apparently seemed to be the leading topic of "Mortuus Lux Lucis".

"Where did you get it from, Riddle?" Cathy looked at him suspiciously.

"It's none of your business. I want you to tell me if you know anything about amulets Mortuus Lux Lucis"

Cathy's expression must have been saying very clearly what was the state of her knowledge. Tom hissed with irritation. All this time he was holding a wand in his hand, which Cathy was painfully aware of. Maybe it was the meeting with the troll that allowed her to put everything into a right perspective, but she wasn't as afraid as she should be in given situation.

"Why are you showing me this book? I may tell on you to one of the teachers. They will expel you for that."

Despite appearances, Tom, the future Dark Lord, seemed to be concerned with the perspective of expulsion from Hogwarts. But very fast he got back to his state of absolute lack of any visible emotions and stated calmly, "What do you think, which one of us will they believe? This book is signed with your last name, you are a vampire. They expect the worst of you. Me, on the other hand... I am the model student, you've heard Slughorn."

Not able to resist the urge, Cathy snorted. Tom, of course, was right, but it was ridiculous. Voldemort was more trusted than she was. Her gaze was again caught by "Mortuus Lux Lucis" in her arms. She felt the strong magnetism of enigma that this work provided. She felt that it has to do with her family's past. For now, she had only unrelated pieces of a puzzle, but the entire thing already promised to be extraordinary. Maybe it will even be able to help her with her mission of neutralising Aster. If she in fact had Shamira's bracelet, there was some little probability present that she is somewhat connected to this case. The experience of passed few weeks showed Cathy that unlikely events tend to happen around her surprisingly often.

"Aside from that," added Tom, "I have ways to force you into silence".

It wasn't even a threat, just a calm stating of datum. Cathy saw her chance in fact that Tom apparently needed vampire's help in understanding all of the book's nuances. A serious enigma remained also why he was so interested in necromancy. Obviously, Cathy knew his story, according to which gaining immortality was his leading goal in life. She honestly doubted that book by a vampire author could help him. There had to be some other reason. There had to be something more in this book.

"If you will work with me, you won't regret it, Ellis. I can show my gratitude to those who help me and my wrath to those who prove to be... incompetent. "

"I will read this book, if that's what you mean," answered Cathy without much emotion.

She was tired by this night's events and wanted to rest at least a few hours. She should've stayed in bed, but no, she had to come up with the idea of a hunt. Maybe if she stayed in her dormitory, as she was supposed to, none of it would have taken place.

"We will talk about it again," Tom promised.

Seeing that, in contrary to his previous assumption, intimidation isn't the best way to gain Cathy's loyalty, Tom apparently decided to try on her the same kind of personal charm that he so successfully fed the teachers with. Cathy wasn't too convinced by it, because she knew it's just a game, role that he mastered to perfection. Everything in Tom was fake. She was curious how does his real "me" look.

"Inform me about everything that you'll learn." added Tom in a way of good-bye, looking her deep in the eyes.

From this distance she could see that his irises were dark grey, almost black. Cathy nodded her head stiffly and at last headed for her dormitory. She threw her cloak onto the armchair and laid on the bed, opening "Mortuus Lux Lucis" in front of her. Rest was forgotten as she started reading words written very long ago by Shamira. In the introduction she was stressing that her reflections are purely theoretical and the point of this book is only academical, but Cathy couldn't help but think it served the same purpose as words at the back of muggle books. "All similarity to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental."

The main part of the book was beginning not like a lecture about theory of necromancy, but like some kind of story. Cathy propped herself on the pillows and began to read.

_The gift of immortality is the gift of death, and as such one cannot be possessed without giving the ownership of the other. He, who wants to become the Master of the Other Side must fully embrace life and death and then discard them. He, who is not afraid of life nor death, may reach for the control and the power. _

_ Master of the Other Side is Lamia. Lamia's are the three amulets of the Dead Light. When Lamia gathers the amulets, she may command over theirs power, but no mortal shall bear their might. Lamia knows that, but she also knows that command over the Other Side is a burden and that is why the amulets must remain separated. He, who gathers the amulets agrees with consequences. The amulets long to get back to the world of Other Side, their stay among the living is not their natural state. Alas, they give control to cross the boundaries of both realms. _

Weird style that Shamira apparently preferred was disturbing Cathy's reading at the beginning, gave off an impression of chaos, but after few first pages she got used to it and reading took on faster pace. Contrary to what she took for granted at the beginning, the book was not about necromancy in strict sense. Most of it was about the Dead Light, a set of three amulets, that apparently belonged to mentioned all the time Lamia. Their origin was unsure, but according to the description they gave their owner power of controlling the dead and death and life.

Turning page after page, Cathy stumbled onto a freehand drawing of the Dead Light. She couldn't help a silent sigh of resignation looking at shockingly exact replica of two bracelets and a necklace from Shamira's portrait, which hung in Cathy's flat. Even if mentioned above Lamia used to be Master of the Other Side once, apparently she passed the torch to Shamira quite some time ago. After that the amulets must've been scattered, because Cathy was positive that Aster did not poses more than one. Did she know what she holds in her hands? Was she trying to gather them on purpose?

Maybe not yet, but Cathy was pretty convinced that Aster's ascend to power could have had something to do with magical support she gained. Her control over vampires' minds couldn't come from nothing. They were practically dead, so fell under category of creatures that the Dead Light allowed to control.

This way Cathy faced a rather interesting fact. To oppose Aster de Nox, she apparently had to, for the time being and to some extent, join sides with Tom Riddle. If someone had told her that this is what will come out of her plan to spend a year in Hogwarts, she wouldn't have believed them.

And yet, even if situation was far more than simply uncomfortable, Cathy had to admit it was giving her certain edge. Apparently Aster haven't laid her hands on "Mortuus Lux Lucis" as of now and Cathy was staring to suspect that she knows exactly why this happened. Tom needed a vampire, fluent in history of their kind, because the book was full of subtle allusions and hints about culture of immortals. If his path was not crossed by Cathy, perfect candidate who shared blood with the author of interesting him work, he would have decided to use Aster for his purposes. It couldn't be anything so terrible, seeing as Aster managed to get out of this alive, sadly, to bring terror and destruction in her own time. More importantly, Cathy had knowledge coming from living in the future and was assured that she will know when to back away.

Everything was suggesting that the next step in Cathy's plan was to become Lord Voldemort's vampire. Seriously, was there anything mote tempting? Cathy could just imagine herself putting it in her CV.

The one to create Dead Light had to be a powerful wizard or witch. The book did not state it, but Cathy suspected that it was Shamira Ellis' doing. She seemed like the only person with the right competences. And even if not she, then someone she knew very well – "Mortuus Lux Lucis" contained multitude of details that only person interested could know. Shamira did not have to worry about copyright. Cathy honestly doubted that anyone would be able to recreate the entire magical process surrounding creation of the amulets. Magical power that was used was impossible to master not only for Cathy, but probably also for every other living wizard, be it a human or a vampire. Gathering them, even without the knowledge about the other two's whereabouts seemed far easier.

This led to a conclusion that Cathy will have to gather all three amulets, ideally before Aster de Nox did so. The most wanted resolution would be to get them before Aster understood their true power. This way any further complications could be avoided, complications that could lead even to an open war between the two vampires. Cathy could not see herself as a leader of any fraction, not even one dedicated to a cause as noble as stopping Aster.

She could feel the sun rising beyond the school walls, but she did not sop reading. It was Sunday and Cathy decided that she may very well skip breakfast. Sitting over a plate of cereal that she won't touch anyway seemed like an unforgivable lose of time right now. She had no need for eating and sometimes even looking at human food was causing her nausea. Soon after noon, and lunch time, came and went, but Cathy still did not leave her dormitory. She just reached a very interesting fragment.

_When Lamia gains the Dead Light, she gains the control. But to become the master of the power itself, she must possess it. The power is held by Death, so Lamia may challenge Death. She now holds the keys to her kingdom and they may meet on common ground, and Lamia may challenge Death. Death shall answer to the challenge and upon being defeated, she shall pour her power into the Dead Light, but the amulets are only a tool, the power shall be in Lamia. But the power cannot exist without the control, and the control is not as powerful as power. To gain both, Lamia must gather the Dead Light and challenge Death. Then and only then shall she become the real Master of the Other Side. _

If it was a metaphor, Cathy didn't understand it completely. Why challenge Death, if you already are immortal? She also wondered why someone even created the amulets if they thought they ought to be destroyed, as Shamira said at the beginning. In Cathy's opinion, "Mortuus Lux Lucis" did not make one want to destroy the Dead Light, quite the contrary, it advertised it perfectly. After reading the book someone like Tom Riddle or Aster de Nox must've been obsessed with finding the amulets. This volume was practically a commercial, whose target audience was just about anybody with bad intentions. Leaving it in a place from which it was apparently easy to steal wasn't the smartest ff ideas. Well, that is if you did not wish all the worst upon everything living. Cathy had a hard time stomaching the thought that Shamira could have wanted for "Mortuus Lux Lucis" to see the light of day again.

Before the evening, after Cathy had finally finished reading "Mortuus Lux Lucis", black ants suspiciously similar to Shamita's hand-writing danced before her eyes and her head was buzzing with questions coming throughout the entire book. For a few minutes Cathy just sat with her eyes closed, massaging her temples in order to fight upcoming headache. Then she rose slowly and threw "Mortuus Lux Lucis" to her trunk with intention of giving it back to Tom in possibly more private setting. She dared not imagine the consequences if she were to be caught with a book about black magic, especially in times when everybody fretted the perspective of an attack of Grindelwald. In best case scenario she would be sent to Azbakan, in worst – lynched. When it came to the second option, people just had some natural predispositions and inclinations that were trigged mostly by vampires, out of all magical creatures. Cathy spoke out of her own experience here. Maybe it didn't go as far as to having a mob of village people at the gates of her castle with pitchforks and torches, but certain attributes remained timeless and fire was among them indisputably. Even a vampire couldn't walk unharmed from a Fiendfyre. Cathy felt a shiver go down her spine at the recollection of the havoc this particular spell caused in vampire ranks in the future. Who knows, maybe this is how Juliette, the last vampire in England, died. Cathy shook her head vigorously – this didn't and won't happen, she will see to that.

She stood in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. She had no intention of running into the Great Hall as if a dragon was chasing her, no matter the situation. Even momentarily suppressed, her vanity still called for Cathy to at least get her curls in order. Dispassionately combing through her blonde grey locks, she was trying to ignore thoughts about the times when such a luxury as a comb was unthinkable, because you had to run, be afraid, be vigilant.

She managed to get to the Great Hall just in time for supper. She was surprised by the look of the enchanted ceiling, grey with rain clouds. She lost the track of time, subconsciously she thought it is still night-time. It was probably caused by the pitch-dark interior of the Common Room of Slytherin, chased away only by this awful, infernal green light.

Locating Tom at the Slytherin table was no challenge. Before everything else, he was tall, so his head stuck above rows of others. Cathy walked over to him, on her way smiling to Corbin to let him know that everything is fine. Apparently, he was worried by her absence. Sometimes she missed meals, but still appeared in the Common Room, because it was more spacious than her dormitory. All-day-long disappearance was a novelty. Anyway, who knows, maybe rumours about night-time meeting between Cathy and the Head Boy have already reached Corbin. In Hogwarts, walls seemed to not only have ears, but also eyes and some sort of speech apparatus to share all that they had heard and seen. If you though about it, that was just the case – only not walls had all these attributes, but paintings hanging on them.

Cathy leaned over Tom, causing Avery to look at her suspiciously. She herself wasn't too pleased with the idea of invading Tom's personal space, either, but she didn't want to be overheard. Tom inclined his head a little to Cathy's side and awaited the rapport with his typical indifference, as if there was nothing weird in the fact that he's about to listen to vampire's opinion about a necromancy book. Normal day in life of Tom Riddle.

"Can we talk somewhere quiet?" whispered Cathy.

Without a word, Tom nodded and stood up. He gestured for her to follow him. They headed from the Entrance Hall and then crossed it, delving into a corridor on the ground floor, where empty, unused classrooms were located. Tom opened the door to one of them with a spell and they walked in. Cathy sat on a desk, eyeing the room. There was nothing here that could tell her what the classroom was used for. Desks and chairs didn't give away any purpose apart from the most general one.

"This book," Cathy began. "I can't believe I have never heard about it from anybody in my family. The topic is slightly dodgy, all right, but still brilliant."

"Maybe Shamira did not want "Mortuus Lux Lucis" to see the light of day?" Tom suggested. "Publishing a necromancy book was very risky, even in the 10th century. Is she still alive?"

Surprised by the sudden change of topic, Cathy raised her eyes at Tom. For the most of time she tried to avoid looking at him. It wasn't that he was eye-sore, quite the contrary, for someone who was destined to end up as a bald monster with flat face of a snake, he looked shockingly handsome. It was just that this way it was easier for her to keep the necessary calm. She could pretend then that she's talking with some random student interested in not-the-safest kind of magic.

"Not any more than I am," replied Cathy at last with an odd expression. "Even less so. I have never talked about it with a mortal," she realised. "Um, yes. When a vampire is old, they just become tired of living. Dying comes hard to us, so we go into lethargy. It's a little bit like sleep. I mean, I suspect it is like human sleep. I have no comparison. The time flies very fast then, but we ourselves can decide when do we want to wake up. Some of the incentives from the outside world do reach us, that's why if something that catches our attention happens, we wake up as well. Shamira is in such lethargy. She won't wake up, I believe. This way old vampire give up living."

"What a waste of immortality," said Tom.

_Yes,_ thought Cathy sarcastically, _because you are planning on using yours in a far more productive way. By torturing and killing, for example._

"Have you managed to establish who Lamia is?" asked Tom.

"I don't know anyone by that na... Ah!"

How could she not realise it earlier? She jumped of the desk and started pacing around the classroom, tracked by impatient gaze of Tom's dark eyes. She always found it easier to think clear walking or just standing. She read sited, and then headed for a walk to think about it. This time she skipped this important step and these were the effects.

"Lamia means a vampire in Latin," she said. "I think Shamira meant that a mortal cannot control the Dead Light, only a vampire can."

"I suspected as much," Tom nodded as if he was agreeing with himself. "In sum: to control the Dead Light, I need to get in contact with its owner. Where is Shamira's tomb?"

In few short seconds, Cathy had to make a decision whether alliance with Tom Riddle is even possible and if so, if he will be inclined to help her fight Aster de Nox. Her head spinned with endless scenarios and the weight of her answer fell suddenly on her shoulders. She had no one t oask for advice. Maybe Alexandra would be able to understand her, but she wasn't there and time was running relentlessly. Cathy could not drag the silence any more.

"You won't find the amulets there," she said silently, the words leaving her clenched in fear throat with difficulty. "I think I know who has one of them. A vampire, Aster de Nox. The remaining two must have disappeared long time ago."

It was hard to say if Tom understood her at all. His face was unreadable as he looked through a tall window at the Forbidden Forest. Cathy involuntarily looked in the same direction. It was hard to believe that this entire situation started not even twenty four hours ago and only because she wanted to go for a hunt.

All right, she began it herself, so she could carry it on. What did she have to lose in the worst case scenario? Life? Good one. If she doesn't risk it now and her mission fails, death awaits her anyway. No big difference, now or later, in some undetermined future.

"What will you say about an ultimatum, Riddle? I will help you in search of the Dead Light, and you will help me in getting rid of Aster de Nox and those who may want to continue her work."

She extended her pale hand in front of her. Tom looked at the appendage as if he's never seen anything quite like it. He didn't move and Cathy uttered an annoyed, impatient huff.

"How can I know you're not lying? I need to check it first. Use legilimency."

Not lowering her extended hand for even a second throughout all of this, Cathy pointed out soberly, "This may be problematic. You cannot see into vampires mind. This may probably have something to do with _being dead,_"she ended with sarcasm visible in her voice.

"We shall forge an Alliance of Blood, then," said Tom promptly. "Why the shocked face, Ellis? I know more about your ways that you think."

Not waiting for any response from Cathy, Tom took out wand out if his pocket and murmured a spell. A blade emerged from the tip of his wand. Tom slashed it over his open hand and then reached for Cathy's hand, too, but she quickly swept it out of his reach.

"I can to it myself," she explained, seeing his expression.

She raised the hand to her lips and sank her fangs into it, cutting through skin. Burgundy blood flowed lazily, pooling in her palm. Alliance of Blood was a powerful, ancient magic. By putting it into action, they agreed to work together in order to achieve common goal. Cathy did not like the finality of this solution, but she couldn't see any other way. She extended her hand for the second time and grasped Tom's hand with it, breathing deeply the air filled with intertwining smells of their blood. They said the word of the pledge together and Cathy rapidly let go of Tom's hand. The alliance between her and Voldemort has been irreversibly made.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five, in which Cathy gains something partially because she lost something.**

It was easiest not to ponder about events of the last two days. Cathy discovered that every time she tries to wrap her head around every possible outcome of her Alliance of Blood with Tom Riddle, throbbing pain starts in her brain and just won't go away. It was simply too much. Even her nightmares, up till this point reserved solely for visions of future war and endless repetition of the same scenes of death of every single person she knew, suddenly changed. From time to time her own death appeared in them, death at the hand of teenage mortal who aimed his wand at Cathy with emotionless face.

Staying focused on Monday's morning lessons proved to be a challenge, too. Time after time her eyes wandered in Tom's direction. Looking at him one couldn't say he paid any mind to obscure alliance with vampire. Well, he could gain something from it, at least in his opinion. Cathy was mildly irritated by the fact that Tom doesn't seem to perceive her as any, even marginal, threat. She understood that she doesn't seem to be an opponent worthy of him, but he, of all the people, should know, how misleading appearances can be. He was the master of them. Probably no one in the entire school, looking at this poor boy from an orphanage wouldn't take a wild guess that here stands the future murdered of thousands.

Something of this tumult must have shown on Cathy's face, because Corbin looked at her with concern throughout entire Herbology. At last, when they were living the greenhouse, tired after a fight with some extraordinarily reluctant to cooperate plants of Professor Kettleburne's, he couldn't take in and asked: "What's going on, Cathy? I can see something's bugging you. I'm trying to be your friend, but it's hard, because you won't tell me anything."

"It's complicated," sighed Cathy. "I would cause you unnecessary trouble if I told you."

"I will gladly test my luck."

They turned towards the castle. It seemed like it's going to rain again, so they both involuntarily started walking faster, not wanting to get caught in the downpour. Cathy shook her head sadly. She really couldn't pull Corbin into her intrigues, however tempting it seemed. It would be nice to be able to lean on someone. But she had to depend on Alexandra, whom she hadn't yet seen that day anyway. They had only Defence Against the Dark Arts together and Cathy sometimes briefly wondered if maybe Alexandra on purpose chose only these subjects that Cathy didn't sign for at the beginning of the school year.

"Does it have anything to do with Riddle?" asked Corbin suddenly, presenting disturbingly in this situation keen mind. "I've heard rumours in the Common Room."

"It's complicated," repeated Cathy, feeling slightly silly that her input in the conversation is limited only to that.

They entered the Great Hall, where lunch was just starting. Corbin did not press the matter any further, but it was obvious that lack of honesty on Cathy's side is hurting him. Cathy herself was worried what Tom would do to him if he were to learn that Corbin knows their secrets. Uncharacteristic for her care for anyone caught Cathy's attention, but was soon dismissed as something that she'd better not dwell on. She may not like the conclusion, and what then? As for Alexandra, Cathy believed she is able to take care of herself and anyway she had no qualms concerning her. That is why she started looking around in search of Alexandra.

It seemed that Alexandra was also looking for her, because at the sight of Cathy she stood up from the Ravenclaw table. They met about halfway between the two tables and Alexandra's expression wasn't saying anything good. The vampire looked mad. Her dark brown eyes were narrowed dangerously and their typical, intelligent look was eclipsed by pure fury. Even her red hair seemed to be electrifying from emotions buzzing inside Alexandra's head. Emotions that she apparently was going to share with Cathy, whether Cathy likes it or not.

"I did not agree to clean up your mess," she hissed maliciously, but also so silently that Corbin, who stood just a few feet from them, could not hear a thing. "Caretaker Ogg found this morning corpse of a troll in the Forbidden Forest. Just by chance I've stumbled onto him before he reported to the Headmaster and modified his memory. So what, now you decided to drink illegal blood?"

"I haven't decided anything!" whispered Cathy back irritatedly. "I've killed the troll, but did not drink its blood!"

Cathy could not believe that her not-too-smart idea of a night walk could come up to something like this. But she was saying the truth, she didn't touch troll's blood and her annoyance was coming mostly from the fact that after knowing her for so many years, even if in fact not too close, Alexandra could automatically suspect something opposite, as if that was all she could expect from Cathy.

It did not convince Alexandra, who was loosing control more and more. Deep in her chest a silent growl resounded and her eyes became scarlet – a clear sign that a vampire is hunting, in danger or giving themselves fully to the wild, primal part of their nature, based on instinct and lust. Cathy clenched her hands into fists, but apart from that did not show any other sign of emotion. She had longer experience in working on herself and probably more often than Alexandra found herself in situations where tearing the other person's throat seems like a valid solution. Long years of contacts with vampire aristocracy were a great school of self-discipline.

"And to that, you can't even listen to my one advice! I made it clear for you not to get into collusions with Voldemort, but no! Why listen to me! After all, I am only vampire plebs, no one good enough for the great, omniscient miss Ellis! Or maybe it's just troll's blood eating away at your brain?"

"I did not drink this damn blood!" Cathy growled.

That what happened next moment mostly happened too fast for human eyes of gathered in the Great Hall teachers and students. One moment Cathy and Alexandra were eyeing each other, none too keen to back away, involuntarily taking up attack positions, slightly leaning forward, legs apart. The next a loud bang resounded, wood moaned in protest and part of golden tableware fell from the Slytherin table to the floor. Alexandra was clenching her fingers on Cathy's throat, pushing her into the table. Now both vampires' retsinas were red, both vampires were showing pointy fangs, like dogs ready to jump at each other and tear to shreds. Someone screamed, all human eyes in the room were directed at this scene.

With low, animal growl Cathy pushed Alexandra away. In another fast like a thought movement tables were turned and now Cathy was pushing Alexandra against a wall. They struggled this way for a moment, fighting for domination, but Cathy was older and eventually had to gain at least a bit of advantage.

With another snarl and crash of a body hitting the floor, Alexandra landed on the stone flooring. Cathy stood above her, with a shoe positioned on the other vampire's chest. She must have put far more strength than it was necessary into that triumphant gesture, because Alexandra frowned in pain and nauseating crackle of breaking bone could be heard.

"Expelliarmus!"

Power of the spell threw Cathy in the air. She landed, crouching, over a dozen feet further, looking around in search of the culprit. Professor Meerythought, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was moving tip of her wand from Cathy to Alexandra. Several other teachers were hurrying in their direction, including Professor Slughorn.

"This is unacceptable!" screamed Merrythought. "Fights in our school? Unworthy shows of violence? And performed by girls! Be ashamed, both of you! Minus thirty points to both houses!"

Dumpledore helped wincing in pain Alexandra to stand up. He didn't seemed amused in the slightest, joyful sparks in his blue eyes were gone. He ordered Alexandra to follow him to the Hospital Wing. Following them was Willborough, Head of the Ravenclaw House. Strong emotions were not good for his health, because he was coughing exceptionally unpleasantly.

Slughorn approached Cathy. He was pale and trembling. Without a word he gestured for her to follow him and took of to his office rapidly. Cathy did not look around, did not care for other students' reactions. She could feel someone's very intensive gaze burning a hole in her back, but she did not turn around to see if it was Corbin or Tom. She could hear Druella's giggle, high-pitched and nervous, before the door of the corridor leading to dungeon closed behind her.

A long few minutes passed before Slughorn was able to choke anything out. They already got to his office and sat on the opposite sides of a desk. Gone was the friendly feeling of the Slug Club meetings. Head of Slytherin was angry and his anger was coming from the fact that he was also scared.

"By acting this way, you betray the trust bestowed upon you by Headmaster Dippet upon allowing you into school Cathy," he said. "No, don't interrupt me." He raised one short finger. "I am aware of vampire's customs and that you had to defend your position. Nevertheless... Nevertheless," he repeated with force, "vampire laws do not apply in Hogwarts. Here we follow school regulations and they clearly state: no fighting!"

"Yes, Professor," Cathy managed to chide it.

Adrenaline was slowly leaving her and now first of all she felt unbelievably stupid. She closed her eyes for a moment and they turned from red back to green. Slughorn must have read it as a good sign, because he carried on: "Naturally, I am forced to punish such actions. Professor Merrythought has already taken points, but two weeks worth of a detention seems fitting, too. You will show up every evening in my office."

He sighed heavily, as if it cost him a lot. He leaned comfortably in his armchair, overwhelmed with relief that unpleasant experience is behind him. He came back to his tone that he sometimes used with his favourite and that in his opinion was fatherly. Cathy could not even consider it annoying. She was still dying out of shame, even if she couldn't really blush. She acted like a brat, and in front of so many people, too. She got carried away by emotions.

"Cathy, Cathy, Cathy... What has gotten into you? You seemed so collected, level-headed, and now such a nasty incident. You had to have your reasons."

He said it almost with hope and Cathy thought in spite of all, that he's craving for any juicy info. If it would help her to worm away, she was happy to give him one. Overall in her guilt she was more cooperative than usual.

"Alexandra doesn't like it that I spend time with Tom. She's not too big on friendship with mortals, Professor."

It wasn't all true. Alexandra probably had no precise opinion about people as a whole, it was just Tom that caused her distaste and for reasons that were rather unambiguous. It was hard to blame her, really. Slughorn seemed hypnotised that Tom's name was mentioned and Cathy understood at once that he doesn't see it as friendship. In his own eyes he just became a matchmaker for two of his pupils.

"Miss Engels have been, it would seem, hurt. Should you also let the school nurse take a look at you?"

To test it, Cathy wriggled in her chair. Nothing hurt. She suspected her back is bruised quite seriously, but it was nothing that would leave a mark after several hours.

"I'm fine. I think I broke Alexandra's sternum," she added honestly.

This time Slughorn did not manage to control a small tic, face muscles twitching. He was trying to comprehend the fact that petite girl sitting opposite him was capable of breaking bones without any visible effort.

"If that's all, Professor..."

"Yes, Cathy, you may go now. I propose you think about your behaviour and try to resolve this matter peacefully. I shall see you at six o'clock in my office."

Trying to move with normal, human speed, Cathy left Slughorn's office. There was no point in going back to the Great Hall, where the recent episode was probably discussed. Not too thrilled by the perspective of looks and whispers, Cathy dragged herself to the classroom where her next lesson was to take place. End of the school day could not come too soon today.

"Wait, Cathy."

In the corridor she got stopped by Corbin. He looked worried when he examined her carefully. Cathy felt a wave of sympathy towards randomly met mortal. If all of them were just as nice, maybe they could avoid many senseless deaths. She tried to remember what humans are capable of, but it was hard to imagine Corbin cutting somebody's head off.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to say anything," he made clear at the beginning, "but sometimes it's better to talk to someone."

It was a foreign idea to Cathy, raised in isolated environment, used to depending on herself, taught that others are only useful in that sense that you can manipulate them, and if she shows a weakness, they will try to manipulate her. As a daughter of the Ellis family she wasn't allowed to how weaknesses, especially not to a human boy, but she felt so very tired, exhausted by constant worrying. For the first time in a very long time Cathy fully felt the weight that could be loneliness when you are surrounded by people.

That is why she decided to act against her own beliefs and against what her parents taught her.

"We can talk in my dormitory. But you have to promise to keep an open mind and you will never, under any circumstances, tell it to anybody," she said. "Otherwise I will find you and make sure you will be sorry."

This thread did not sound to serious, of you took into consideration that Cathy was over a head shorter than Corbin, and a petite girl to that. Nevertheless, Corbin did not smile, only nod his head seriously, seeing Cathy's determined expression. He just said neutrally, that he trusts her enough to know that she wouldn't be capable of murder. Cathy did not have a heart to tell him that he's wrong, she did kill, many times, her hands are dirty with blood. In spite of all, paradoxically, she did not wish to scare him away of turn him against her. It was enough that she apparently lost Alexandra.

They weren't friends, that is true, but it was still painful to lose the only person conscious of the mission Cathy had to fulfil. Sure, they couldn't ever agree, but Cathy couldn't believe she let herself be provoked so easily. She would much rather prefer that Marco was here, he always put up with her humours and supported her. Or Juliette, she would surely know what to, she had always seen way out of any situation. But instead Cathy had Alexandra. They didn't trust each other, they didn't like each other, could never agree. It wasn't even a question of some disagreement in the past. It would be easier if Alexandra was for example in love with Marco and hated Cathy, because she was the one to win him. If there was a solid problem, possible to discuss. 

However, the split lay deeper, in their unchanging essence. Cathy was an egocentric aristocrat, who up until war had everything handed to her on silver plate, at least according to Alexandra. Alexandra had to gain everything by intelligence and cleverness, she had to heritage that would open door in front of her. She was too smart to let emotions as primitive as jealousy carry her away. She could see clear injustice in fact that vampires such as Cathy had a chance to change their society, but are too lazy to use it, while those who really do want to do something and are trying will never get any recognition only because of their last name. At last frustration coming from the fact that she owes Cathy obedience only because she's called Ellis won. Cathy could come away with anything, even drinking of this damn troll blood, if she only wanted to. That which in Alexandra would be disgusting, in Cathy would be accepted eccentricity.

Of course Cathy couldn't look at their fight from this perspective. She never was too emphatic, and definitely wasn't able to understand way of thinking of someone who didn't have at his disposal unlimited money and influences to go through live as they please. Something broke inside her when he raised her voice at Alexandra in the Great Hall. This something led her to look at Corbin differently than at just another mortal, living too shortly and being too fragile to even count in her calculations. She started to see that others can be a value in themselves, not only because she could manipulate them for her own gain. If Juliette could look into her pupil's thought, she would probably reach a conclusion that hell just froze over.

When they were in the solitude of Cathy's bedroom, Corbin collapsed into the armchair before the constantly extinguished fireplace and tarted fire with a spell. Cathy, who didn't actually mind the low temperatures and hadn't shrunk because of cold as he did, sat at the armrest, wondering what she should start with. Voice in her head, very similar to Juliette's, suggested that at the beginning would be best. Easier said than done. The beginning of her story in theory haven't taken place yet. How to say something like that and don't get laughed at? She took a deep breath and started talking, "At the beginning of 21st century there won't be a single vampire left in England."

She talked and talked, looking at the opposite wall and not really moving, like a doll sited by an eccentric artist. Her voice was calm and Cathy extracted from her mind memory after memory, not avoiding anything, and every word was like a lead weight removed from her heart. Corbin didn't interrupt her, even though story of war, travel in time and artefacts allowing to control death must have sounded impossible. Cathy painted before his eyes a picture of havoc, fall and fire. She remembered friends, whose murders she had seen with her very own eyes. She described times that would come if she will fail. She shared secrets of her mission with him. She shared secrets of Tom Riddle and Aster de Nox, too. At the end in Corbin's mind full vision of unbelievable decades, which Cathy walked through to get back here, took substance. Maybe he would think it a joke, but there was something in her silhouette perched right next to him that arouse pity. Cathy probably would not wish for pity, she couldn't see any use for it, but still before her was learning that she doesn't have to prove her power at very step. Corbin was determined to prove it to her, even if he couldn't quite name this thought yet.

He hugged Cathy to himself, trying to ignore the coldness of her body and this unfathomable feeling that he isn't holding yet another girl from his class in his arms. Trying to ignore the fact that Cathy was, technically speaking, dead, but it wasn't something that was easy to push to the back of his mind. As if she caught up on her faux pas, Cathy started breathing, maybe a little bit too slowly for it to look natural. She couldn't pretend beating of the heart, which remained dead in her chest. No voice of comfort fell, but it was all right, because Cathy did not want nor need them. She always preferred action. Corbin pulled her to his knees gently, all the time holding close as if she was the child here, weak creature in need of protection. Maybe she was. Apart from vampire physical strength, somewhere in the depth of Cathy's soul there were uncertainty and fear, buried deep, ignored, unwanted. And the more she pushed them away, the bigger was probability of them coming back with double strength in the worst possible moment to take their revenge on her for trying to get rid of natural emotions.

"Thank you for trusting me," he said quietly.

"You shall curse that day," Cathy answered with conviction. "You can't possibly imagine in what danger you are if Riddle finds out what I'm doing behind his back and what I hid from him."

"In this case, you can also have troubles," noticed Corbin soberly. "Listen, Cathy, maybe I'm not the right wizard to assist you with my magic if things go to hell, but I can assist you in other ways. You don't have to go through all of this on your own."

These weren't words Cathy heard often. Not when she was leaving her family house. She was supposed to go through all of this alone, because that was the point. Jumping head first into things was supposed to make her a stronger person. Not when her life turned into ashes. It was her decision then and the punishment was facing the consequences. Not when Juliette sent her into past. She was the only possible choice and nobody asked if she wants it. Cathy wasn't sure if she can trust anyone, even if she just bared her soul in front of that anyone.

"Thank you," she said at last.

This word haven't escaped her lips too frequently and it was hard to tell if Corbin realises that, but he could deduce a lot more about her character than Cathy showed during a moth of their acquaintance. Cathy herself wasn't sure if she did well confiding in Corbin. Following days, and especially evenings, during which she was scrubbing cauldrons in Slughorn's class, gave her lots of time to think. Sometimes she felt simply humiliated, reduced to an unworthy role of a maid dependant on a mortal's support. On other days she was grateful for Corbin and dwelled in her won head on the feeling of relief that came with sharing what hurts her with another person. From time to time she had panic attacks, worrying about will happen if Corbin decides to share her secret with public. Cathy would end up in Azkaban or at St. Mungo's, if they decide that all of this are figments of her sick imagination.

In the meantime Cathy tried to cope with ostentatious silence on Alexandra's part when they were passing each other in the hallway and with Tom Riddle, who was simply himself. He didn't comment in any way on the scene in the Great Hall, but Cathy was sure that he thought of it as a show of weakness. He could project his unhappiness quite nicely without use of words. Cathy on her side was sick and tired of sneaking around and hiding with him in some abandoned classrooms between lessons and detentions. She needed peace and conversations with Corbin, not constant vigilance, weighting her words with Tom. That's probably why she nearly groaned when she saw him in the Potions classroom, sitting behind the desk with a bored expression of someone who belongs here, in the position of power.

She came to serve her detention, one before last. She was more unhappy about in than usual, as because of the punishment she couldn't go to Hogsmeade with Corbin and she felt that some sort of entertainment would be good for her. But instead hours of humiliating labour good for muggles awaited her. To top it up, Slughorn was nowhere to be seen. Tom took his place, which didn't bode well.

"Professor could not keep you company today," said Tom by the way of greeting, "so I proposed to keep an eye on you in his place. Do you know what to do?"

He gestured with his chin towards the corner, where dirty cauldron left after classes stood. Cathy sent him a cold look, which he ignored. It was evident that authority over her causes him pleasure. Cathy tried to grasp at remaining bits of her dignity and started working in absolute silence. She managed to ignore Tom's presence for full two quarters before he spoke.

"Who exactly is Aster de Nox, which you've mentioned?"

Nobody important, just the reason of my race's extinction, thought Cathy with irony. She scrubbed with the brush over a very nasty bit of dirt inside the cauldron. She had no idea how students managed to make such a mess. None of the potions she concoctions she knew was supposed to look like that in the last stage.

"Nobody important," she said out loud, leaving out the rest of this sentence. "She's a vampire working in a library on Knockturn, presumably some distant family of mine. I don't know how she came into possession of the bracelet."

When she looked at things from the right perspective, she was glad Alexandra isn't talking with her. At least she didn't have a chance to say "I told you so". It turned out, after all, that she was probably right about Aster de Nox' bracelet when she said it has belonged to Shamira Ellis. Cathy remembered with self-irony that she ignored her back then, calling this information meaningless. She couldn't be more wrong.

"Do you know her?" questioned further Tom, standing up and walking over to kneeling Cathy.

"No. I mean ye. Not in literal sense. I've met her in the Ministry of Magic, she introduced herself, we talked for a moment."

"What were you doing in the Ministry?"

Looking up from the cauldron, Cathy made an dissatisfied expression. It's effect was somewhat weakened by hair falling in her eyes, so she jerked her head.

"Does this interrogation ever end, Riddle?" she managed to chide in with a question of her own.

It wasn't the best of ideas, not her first and possibly not her last. Tom yanked her by the elbow, pulling her forcefully to her feet. Despite high heels that she always wore, Tom was still taller than her for over a feet and Cathy had to crane her neck uncomfortably to look at him.

"You will answer my questions," he said in a low voice that would not tolerate any discussion. "Something so that you will remember it better."

He pushed her away and surprised Cathy swayed, but did not fall. Before she had a chance to say anything, Tom aimed his wand at her and said the formula of the Cruciatus Curse, which effortlessly went through her instinctively cast Shield Charm. Cathy choked on a scream and fell to the stone floor, stabbed by disarming pain. She bit into her own forearm, but the sting of cut skin wasn't able to turn her attention away from the feeling of burning blades slashing her entire body, without mercy.

When everything stopped, just as suddenly as it had started, she trembled for some time, unable to stand up, confounded. Her eyes were the colour of blood, for the second time in two weeks, when she looked at Tom with hate.

"Cooperate," he ordered calmly.

"What do you think you're doing?" she tried to hiss, but her voice was shaking just like her whole body was.

This time Tom did smile. Maybe it wasn't an exact smile, certainly there was no honest amusement in it nor should the situation cause it, more like the left corner of Tom's mouth rose a bit. Presumably it was a grimace showing more emotions than Cathy had seen in Tom up until this point in total.

"You will be fine, Ellis," he said. "There is no need to dramatise."

Cathy didn't answer, way too busy wondering if Tom Riddle realised how close he was to death this very moment, when the smell of his blood was calling to her.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter six, in which Cathy balances between reality and dream. **_

"Listen to me, Riddle," Cathy said. "I am on your side, so do try to wrap your head around the idea of working together, all right? I'm a bit too old for you to look at me down your nose. We were supposed to cooperate. Do you remember the Alliance of Blood?"

She wondered if Tom heard the evident lie in her voice when she said they're on the same side. Even if he did, he didn't show it, instead nodding his head. Apparently among all the possible reactions he suspected her of, calmly reprimanding him was not one of them. Cathy felt a minimal pang of satisfaction at the thought that maybe Tom didn't feel baffled, but he certainly wasn't in as comfortable a situation as he was just moments before. She pushed her wand into the pocket of her robes, as if hiding the murder weapon.

From this evening on, Cathy's dreams were plagued by a new bane. Maybe it wasn't anything scary, per se, but a strong feeling of unease. Someone was calling out to her. She couldn't hear her own name being uttered, but she was certain that the incorporeal voice was addressing her and her only. She could feel infinity and eternity stretching out in its melody. Cathy had seen too much and had been experienced too powerful magic to believe that those dreams mean nothing.

At the beginning everything was foggy and unclear, some shadows stalking across her mind, a mysterious whispered that seemed like a forgotten childhood song. Then the appearance became more and more clear, until one night Cathy could see clearly the face she knew from the painting. Emerald-green eyes of Shamira were looking straight at her and Cathy couldn't shake off the feeling that she knew this vampire, even if they never met. The feeling was hard to place, like it was with Tom's blood that awoke a memory it couldn't possibly be awaking. Shamira was calling Cathy to her. She didn't explain anything, made no excuses, but Cathy already knew that she won't rest until she clearly takes the path that Tom and she chose for themselves. The path led by the Dead Light. A mythical machinery had been set into motion somewhere outside their control and now they had to face the fact that powers they couldn't understand were entangled into their mission.

When Tom heard about all of that from Cathy, he was more than sceptical. Maybe he had a thing for believing in seers, but he didn't expect Cathy to have any precognitive talents. It was no help, either, to explain to him that Cathy's dreams weren't visions and they weren't even coming from her, but somewhere from the outside. Who knew, maybe the amulet had something to do with generating them.

Corbin, too, wasn't too enthusiastic to believe her. Cathy knew that he's trying to show his support, but he just couldn't make himself believe in voices plaguing his friend. He didn't voice the thought, but in his world voices equalled a visit to St Mungo's. In theory, Cathy couldn't blame him, the strangeness level of this situation had surpassed any norm a long time ago, but it was hard for her to not get irritated. It would be nice for either one of them to believe her: her partner in crime, or her friend.

In a spurt of desperation, Cathy performed a cleansing ritual in her bedroom. It was supposed to drive away malicious spirit, but all it did was make all of Cathy's clothes smell like incense. She had found the formula of the ritual in one of the library books, but she wasn't too convinced about it. Circling the dorm with a bunch of smoking lavender just didn't seem too sound. It was hard to muster the necessary concentration, when most of all she was feeling awkward, and was silently begging that nobody sees her giving in to the superstition.

She wasn't even especially shocked when the ritual didn't work. She had trouble with falling asleep, because there was no way to air the room, and the intense smell of the smoke was scratchy in her throat. When she finally managed to fight of the insistent coughing fit worthy of Professor Willborough, the familiar dream came back almost at once.

She was in a dark, shadows-threaded forest. She was standing between the trees, with silvery fog crowding at her feet, reaching to her knees. Cathy could hear the voice, calling to her. Usually, she'd spend the whole night stumbling across the forest, because the source of the calling appeared to be moving all the time, but this time she walked straight ahead. The dream was too realistic, for her personal standard. The moss was damp under her bare feet, and small branches were clinging to her nightgown. But she didn't stop, determined to find the owner of the voice. For she was sure that it was Shamira ‒ a few times last night her face loomed for a moment in the mist, only to disappear again. Cathy was determined to solve the riddle of this dream once and for all and never repeat it again.

She didn't have to walk for long. From between the trees and fog, a stone tomb came into view. It was hidden in the green darkness of the night, but the solid shape of its block was all too real. Cathy had to cover her mouth when she noticed another detail, hidden in the mist raising from the ground up until now. The entrance to the tomb was being guarded by a golem. The clay monster must had been at least ten feet tall, so it was almost twice Cathy's size. It was perfectly still, but Cathy knew that it's lifelessness was only a trick ‒ the eyes of the golem were burning with icy blue light. The magic keeping him in steely bands remained strong. Some part of Cathy was beginning to guess what this place was, but her consciousness refused to accept it.

The golem made no move in her direction when Cathy took a few hesitant steps towards the tomb. The calling stopped, but Cathy did not. Since she already went so far, she was going to find out everything.

The door leading to the tomb gave way with a moan of the hinges. Cathy walked into an arched vaulted crypt, bathed in silver light. It could be the moonlight, if not for the fact that there were no windows here, through which the moon could glow. The door slammed closed right behind Cathy and, whether she wanted or not, she had to start walking between the pillars and towards the sarcophagus placed on a pedestal on the opposite side of the crypt. A closer inspection of the room showed two rows of trunks by the walls. Apparently, the person resting here had been buried like an Egyptian pharaoh ‒ with all the earthly belongings. Cathy might had felt the urge to snoop or maybe even loot around a little, but some magical power was pulling her towards the sarcophagus. It was quite possibly her powerful and unrelenting curiosity.

Slowly, Cathy climbed the three steps leading up the pedestal. The alabaster sarcophagus was covered in this veins, like human skin, and it seemed almost warm to the touch. Cathy slid her fingers over the golden letters adorning the lid: "Here lies the Lady of the Other Side, she who in her power embraced the Death herself." Underneath, a simple symbol had been carved: one bigger circle and two smaller ones, intertwined inside it. Cathy was so consumes by this discovery that she jumped in place when a voice spoke from behind her back.

"You have arrived at last, my child."

Cathy spoon around, pressing her back into the alabaster of the sarcophagus. Now she knew for sure that the inscription wasn't true ‒ there was no one inside. Shamira Ellis, her ancestress, the Lady of the Other Side, necromancer of never-ending power, was standing before her eyes in flesh.

She was different than in the picture. Again dressed in white, or maybe still dressed in white ‒ she seemed to be a ghost. Cathy couldn't tell how long Shamira had been in lethargy, possibly longer than half a millennium, and the hunger was etched into her face. Shamira's eyes were aglow with scarlet, and her lips were pale as if in illness. Even so, she was still surrounded by aura of some sort of fragile, ethereal beauty, not power and strength, like in the portrait at Cathy's flat. There was no sign of the Dead Light, either. Only a cat-like, mysterious smile was in its place, unchanged.

"I was called by your blood so close to "Mortuus Lux Lucis". I am inside your mind now, Catherine of the Ellis family, I know that you are seeking my creation. Do you think you are deserving of it? What will you achieve, with the amulets accepting you as their mistress?"

Taken aback, Cathy couldn't speak for a moment. The sight of the half-legendary ancestress shook her off balance and now she had a problem with even remembering that this was a dream after all, nothing here should surprise her.

"I just want to find it," she said. "I have no intention of using it. I'm already immortal, so I don't see why…" She trailed off, unsure of where she was going with this in the first place.

"Maybe you shall become the next Lady of the Other Side then. There is a long way still before you. To be indifferent to life and death is not the same as to accept them. You must understand the secrets of both those powers. The Dead Light is a part of a story, and the story wants to play itself for the second time. Do you know why the amulets were made? Do you know whose name are you carrying?"

The conversation was becoming more and more abstract. According to Cathy's best knowledge, she wasn't named after any member of the family, she hadn't seen in the Ellis family tree any other Catherine apart from her. So she shook her head, wondering if she's going to hear the story of the saint from Siena, Alexandrian martyr, daughter of the Medici, or one of the wives of Henry VIII. The name Catherine had made its way through the cards of history, it wasn't uncommon or rare. Actually, as far as the names given to some vampire children went, "Cathy" was almost boring.

"To possess the Dead Light one needs to understand it," Shamira explained, not turning her scarlet eyes away from Cathy for even a second. "I created the amulets to prevent the death of my daughter, Catherine."

Cathy wanted to chide in with some shocked question or exclamation – she'd never heard about Shamira's daughter. But Shamira raised her hand in a commanding, silencing gesture, and Cathy didn't dare to disobey the ancient vampire.

"My Catherine was a dhampire. She was, or maybe she still is. You see, my child, the power of the Dead Light is unimaginable, but capricious. I gave the amulets to Catherine, because after all, she was both life and death in equal parts, half human and half vampire. Death made my dream come true, he made her eternal… But eternal in his black halls. Catherine is outside of my reach now, but the power of the Dead Light remains alluring. You became a part of the story and I am a part of it, just like your mortal and this unhappy vampire girl, de Nox. Take control over the story."

She reached out with her pale arms, and Cathy could feel the weight of her magic. Like a marionette without any free will, she approached Shamira and allowed her to tilt her chin up. Shamira looked her over very carefully, like she could read the future turn of events from Cathy's face, and then she ducked her own head an sank her sharp fangs into Cathy's neck. A strange mixture of pain and pleasure filled Cathy's body when her own ancestress drank her blood to be reborn like a phoenix. A sudden light blinded Cathy, a quiet voice whispered something into her ear, and suddenly she was in her own bed.

She was laying in the middle of kicked-off sheets, shaking from something that wasn't entirely cold. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to calm down, and then, alarmed by piercing pain, slid her hand to her neck. Even in the darkness of the dormitory she could see that her fingers were covered in blood.

She jumped off the bed as if it were filled with burning coals. Not bothering to dress and, possibly for the first time ever, not looking into a mirror beforehand, she ran out of the bedroom and hurried down the corridors, pushing to her neck a shawl that she grabbed from the armchair, where she left it last night.

She didn't knock ‒ she more or less plummeted her fist against the door of Tom's dormitory. She was hitting the wood for so long, finally Tom couldn't ignore the sheer noise anymore, and had to open the door. Not waiting for his reaction nor an invitation, she squeezed into the room and said weakly, "We woke her up."

Were the circumstances any different, she'd probably note with some amusement and dark satisfaction just how messy are Tom's usually pedantically combed her and the fact that he appeared to be half-asleep still.

"What are you talking about, Ellis?" he croaked out.

"We woke up Shamira," she repeated.

"What are you saying?"

Tom sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, hopelessly trying to pat his hair down with his hand. At last he gave up on it, leaned his forearms on his knees, and just looked at Cathy like one would look at a mad person.

"About my dreams. She was the one sending them Shamira." Cathy was becoming more and more feverish.

"Go back to sleep, you're raving."

"No, look!"

She tore the shawl away from her neck with a triumphant expression. Only after a moment did she realise that Tom can't see in the darkness even half as well as she can. So she stood right in front of him and leaned in so that he could examine the wound very closely.

"See? This was done by a vampire's teeth, nothing else heals so slowly on our skin. You can't say that I bit myself, now can you? It was her. She transported me somehow to her tomb and she drank my blood. She was telling me all those… odd things. But it makes sense, Riddle!"

"It will make just as much sense tomorrow morning."

Cathy let out an exasperated shriek, throwing her hands in the air. Tom had never seen her so agitated, even the first time she lied eyes on "Mortuus Lux Lucis". Having decided that it may be important after all, he agreed to listen to her. Not stopping to gesticulate animatedly and wandering all over the dormitory, Cathy briefed him on her dream, repeating everything she'd heard from Shamira.

"Shamira knows about you," Cathy finished her rant. "She also knows about Aster de Nox. I wonder what she meant when she said about the story being repeated."

"Probably you and Catherine," Tom suggested.

He woke up fully by then. It was hard to say that he caught Cathy's enthusiasm, but he stopped yawning openly and started taking active part in the conversation.

"I don't know," Cathy murmured sceptically. "But it has to be important, otherwise she wouldn't make so much effort to share an old family fable with me. This weekend, I'll sneak out of the school, get to my parents' house, and search the house from the basement to the attic, tear down the floors, do whatever it takes, but I'll dig up any secrets and find all the skeletons in the closets. Figuratively speaking, with some luck," she added, suddenly disturbed by the vision.

Maybe it was the blood loss, the late time, or the fact that Tom's blood was starting to smell appetising, but Cathy wasn't feeling herself at the moment. It wasn't her style, acting like that, but she couldn't think of a better way to dissolve all the uncertainty surrounding Shamira Ellis and her life's opus. If anybody knew anything about the matter, it must had been Shamira's nephew, that is Cathy's father, the Ellis family's patriarch.

With a pang of guilt, Cathy realised that it took a mystical intervention to make her visit her own parents. True, vampires weren't too keen on cultivating traditions such as spending Christmas together; actually, they were pushed out of the nest and going back to it was usually frowned upon, or even considered a failure on both the child and parents' sides. Even so, occasional visits were allowed, and Cathy wasn't exactly overusing this privilege. In her defence she could say that she had her reasons to keep her distance. It was, quite possibly, a very flimsy defence.

"You will have to cover me for those two, three days," she pushed on, not letting on that her thoughts strayed to some strange placed for a moment there. "Slughorn will kick me out of the school after a slighter trespass, not to mention anything of this magnitude. Anyway, it's better not to call anybody's attention to my absence. The fewer questions, the better. I'll let Corbin in on my journey to the land of childhood, too, he'll help with covering up."

"Wait a moment," Tom interrupted her harshly.

For a long moment now he was watching with increasing irritation while Cathy smoothly took the reins and finally he found a moment to interrupt her and protest. He wasn't used to taking orders and believed that if anybody was to make plans here, it was him. Cathy was spending all her time to try and make him look at her as an equal partner, but it wasn't easy. He seemed not to notice the significant difference in age and experience, instead looking at Cathy down his nose, and sometimes even being patronizing, treating Cathy like one of the Slytherin girls charmed by his handsome looks and superb intelligence, but for Tom himself, ultimately useless. The rumour making rounds around the school lately wasn't helping, either ‒ people were gossiping about the being a couple. Tom treated this like everything else that wasn't an obstacle to his plan and couldn't provide him with any gain ‒ he ignored it. Cathy, on the other hand, found it hard not to argue with every person who suggested it. Everything in her protested against the idea of her feeling anything for a mortal, a human boy. She could accept cooperation based on common gain, maybe even friendship, but humans were still a different species. Weaker, living shorter, full of delicious blood species.

This thought led her to contemplating the story of Shamira Ellis. How come somebody like her gave birth to a dhampire? Mixed children were very rare, practically non-existent in aristocratic families. This just didn't happen, the pull between the races was based on something else than lust. Humans had blood, vampires could provide interesting elixir ingredients. Breeding just wasn't a part of this two-way arrangement. There was something indecent in it, appalling even.

And yet still, some human found himself close enough to Shamira to catch her interest and made her want him, even if it was just for one night. The fruit of that night was a child, a dhampire to whom Shamira dedicated her bigger creation, for whom she challenged Death himself. Cathy understood feelings, she wasn't as challenged when it came to empathy as some thought, and she had her share of unconditional, sanity-stealing love, but that particular mental picture just escaped her. The riddle of Shamira, an anonymous human, and Catherine remained unresolved.

"What is it?" she asked, abruptly stopping in her thought tracks.

"Your _relations_ with Sullivan should not cloud your judgement when it comes to more important issues," Tom said, ironically accenting the word "relations".

"My friendship with Corbin isn't clouding anything," Cathy said back, trying very hard not to let Tom hear the hesitation in her voice. "Don't worry, Corbin doesn't know about your diabolical plan. I'll tell him that it's a family issue, which is actually true. Anyway, I agreed to work with you, that's true, but it has nothing to do with what I'm doing and with whom I'm doing it."

It wasn't the smartest thing Cathy could say to Tom Riddle, but she didn't care too much at the moment. She felt solemn satisfaction at the thought of having shown Tom quite clearly what are her views on his possessive nature. This time she wasn't surprised when he aimed his wand at her. She expected it, so she could react the right way. She didn't have her own wand on her, because she had no place to hide it while being dressed only in a nightgown, but she had a different kind of arsenal on her disposal. Before Tom had a chance to say the first syllable of some undoubtedly nasty curse, Cathy was already leaning her knees on his chest, pushing him into the bed. He thin fingers curled with surprising strength around Tom's wrist, and he was fighting with a painful grimace. The wand dropped to the sheets, but Cathy didn't let go, feeling the delicate bones giving way under the vampiric strength.

"Listen to me carefully, Riddle," Cathy said quietly, looking straight into Tom's dark grey eyes. "I am not your inferior, and I am not one of your marionettes. Don't you forget, even for a moment, what I really am under the disguise of this body. If we're to work together, then it's going to be on equal ground, is that clear? I don't doubt it that you know more than a handful of spells that most people in this castle haven't even heard about. You probably have bigger magical talent than me, and I can accept that. But I am better in different fields, and if it comes to us really going against each other, it may not be pretty. This is why we'll get out emotions under control and focus on what's important: the Dead Light. Do you agree?"

Tom's eyes clearly said that the answer was "no", and if it wasn't for the perspective of having his arm broken, or even torn out of its socket in a split second, he would probably tell it to Cathy loud and clear, and then treated her with the Avada Kedavra curse, and he wouldn't even think twice about it. He tried jerking his hand away, and when Cathy didn't bulge, he let out air through his teeth. He didn't like stooping down to physical violence without a wand, and this little display was displeasing him.

"Unnecessary drama, Ellis," he spit out sarcastically. "We are bound by magic, remember? It still works, so… If I knew you're mentally unsound, I'd try to find another vampire. Fine, I agree! Happy now? Get off me."

For a short moment Cathy played with the idea of sinking her teeth into Tom's neck, but she decided that it may not be the smartest decision, and this night seemed to be made out of those alone. It was high time to break this chain. So she jumped to the floor, and Tom sat down, massaging his wrist and trying to restore the circulation in his hand. He didn't reach for his wand, though, just looked at Cathy. His face was unreadable again, and Cathy found out that she'd give a healthy portion of her fortune to know what kind of thought are running through the head of the future Dark Lord right now.

Even if he was planning on murdering Cathy in her dream, he didn't let it on. He watched Cathy, who in turn took a few steps backward, straining her muscles, all just to not throw herself at him and taste his blood. Something bad must had been happening to her. She fed not so long ago, this shouldn't be happening.

"Should I go with you?" Tom asked all of a sudden, breaking the heavy silence.

Cathy, who was just turning to the door, planning on leaving as quickly as possible, now stopped mid-step. She didn't expect any goodbye, as their meetings always had more of a business air about them, but this question confused her. Only after a moment did it down on her that Tom was interested not in meeting her parents, but rather in taking part in the search for everything that could help them solve the problem of Shamira. This could be helpful, but remained out of the question.

"You'd be interrogated at the door. My parents haven't spoken a single sentence to any human in centuries, and the sheer idea of their daughter bringing a human home… Too much explaining, too little gain to be had from this enterprise. Two days, Riddle, and I'm back, hopefully with some useful information."

This new look on the problem of inter-species racism did not please Tom, but he nodded his understanding. There was some sort of determination in his eyes, and Cathy managed to catch it when she was answering with a nod of her own. She waited for another moment, but apparently the meeting was over, so she left, heading back for her bedroom. The sunrise was nearing and there was no point in getting back to bed, the classes were starting in just a few short hours.

Instead of that, Cathy sat by the desk, reached for a piece of parchment, and started composing a letter home, informing of her planned visit. The shock will be great for her parents anyway, so the least she could do was to let them know a few days in advance. At this point, she didn't even know if they're home or paying a visit to some family members, and according to her best knowledge, the house staff could not recognise her and think her a burglar if she were to waltz into the manor as if she owned it. She didn't have the feeling of going home, when she thought about this place. Her home was somewhere else, but going back to it was an impossible dream. It didn't change the fact that the old villa turned in Cathy's head into the embodiment of utopia, the symbol of everything that was once good in her life, years' worth of memories that ended too soon and too bloody.

She noticed that her thoughts gained a new way of oscillating about those events. She didn't like reminiscing. According to her life philosophy, the only right direction was "forward", and maybe it was only an euphemism for being stubborn, but it worked. Cathy never make one hundred and eighty turns, and sometimes she wondered if people who spoke of those even knew that it meant simply turning around, and in effect – going backwards. Whatever was so great and praise-worthy in it, it must had escaped her. She didn't believe that people could change all of a sudden, but they could develop in a new direction. Wasn't that what the Sorting Hat spoke to her about nearly two months ago? Cathy was supposed to take a new path, and become a better version of herself, either better or worse. The same thing was suggested to her by Shamira. Apparently, it was time to take some steps.

Before the breakfast even started, Cathy went to the Owlery to send her letter. All this time, she tries to awake some enthusiasm in herself, but to no avail.


End file.
